The Brotherhood of the Traveling Jacket
by strawberryfinn
Summary: Weston. Jorge. Jason. Alek. Best friends, best brothers. They're splitting up for the first time and they find a jacket. R & R
1. Prologue

NOTE: I do not own _The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants_ by Anne Brashares. I do however own this story. I hope you like it. Please review.

Prologue:

Once upon a time there were four boys who were all different shapes and sizes—well actually that's not true—they were all tall and skinny, but you know what I mean. They all had different personalities, but one day they found a flannel-like sort of leathery jacket that fit (and looked good) on every single one of them. You may think that this is a fairy tale, but it's not, because not everybody lived happily ever after. You may think that it's just a tall-tale or something but it's not. How do I know? I'm one of them. I'm part of the Brotherhood of the Traveling Jacket.

My name is Jorge. I'm the one who found that jacket in the first place. Yeah, I'll admit it. One day I was just walking by this thrift shop with the guys during the summer—it's called Rainbow's or something, and I decided to go in. (Yeah, I'll admit that too).

It was sort of a dingy shop with the light through the rafters that's too bright, but some areas aren't bright—and you get the idea. Patched on wall-paper, windows with peeling off weird tape, etc. Well anyway, some people say guys don't like shopping. Well they're wrong. We do.

Alek—the punk, started looking for new earrings. Maybe I should describe some of them to you. Anyway, continuing with Alek—he has a bunch of piercings—some could label him as a rebel, but he's not really, if you think about it. Most rebels are angry, and scream at the world—hate it actually. Alek sort of loves his life, but in a different way. He's one of those guys in a separate reality or something. He lives in his own world, and accepts things slowly, but he likes to stand out. Alek is someone that I would label as a leader. He has these thoughtful hazel eyes, but he never decides to blurt something out unless he thinks about it first. He'll listen to everything you say before giving you a reply—in that way, he's a great listener and I like talking to him.

Well Alek was scanning the earring section, and West yelled out, "Pierce alert!"

West—I don't know what to call West. The clown? Something? West is the person in your life who leads his and all others' lives. He herds you around like a sheepdog. He's like the Road Runner from the cartoons—always moving ahead, always looking towards the future. But unlike some people like that, he's always there to listen to you, but likes to butt in. What does he look like? Longish, sort of curly brown hair and brown eyes that are always full of light and excitement. West is a different one; a great fan of sugar and coffee, he always seems to have a steady flow of energy: I don't think I've ever seen him tired.

Jason smiled. "Better get him to try on something else."

Jason. If anybody's a mystery, it's Jason. He is good-looking, but self-conscious about it. No, you're not getting the picture. Let's see… intense black bangs brushing over wide eyebrows, eyes the color of the greenest grass, a great smile with full lips and bright, straight teeth. (It sort of helps that he brushes them too). But the weird thing is—well you know how some guys get all cocky when they're handsome and everything? Jason's not. He seems almost embarrassed about his looks—like if people look at him, they judge him by his looks and not how he really is. They assume things without well… actually getting to know him. He's been asked to model so many times, and he's turned down all the offers. He has never even had a girlfriend—though many girls _have_ tried to talk to him and stuff. Let's just say Jason is not the person you go with when you want to find a date. They forget about you, and focus on your friend.

Anyway, back to the story. I grabbed a random jacket, shoved it at Alek, and stuffed him into a dressing room. "Put it on!"

Me? I don't know what I am. Maybe the writer… the reader? As Weston would say, "Jorge doesn't have that much, but he makes up for it in personality," which personally I prefer better than "Jason has everything, but his personality is like a piece of cheese," where Jason promptly picked up a rock and threw it at his head, and West still has that scar. My hair is sort of darkish and it's really long. The bangs are sort of the same as Jason's but my eyes are sort of darker. I'm pretty tall and pretty skinny too. I eat a lot, but I don't seem to put on any weight. It's sort of weird actually. Anyway, I don't know what I am. I haven't figured it out yet. I play electric bass, Jason plays electric guitar and Alek plays drums and West sings, and we have started a band. But bluntly putting it—we stink. Our band is called "Hearts Rendered Useless," and we can play—but we don't have too much dedication. Well I do. But the guys don't.

I've forgotten to mention that this was the summer and we'd all just gotten out of school. We all go to different schools except for West and Alek who go to some public school together. All our lives since we were like one or something, we'd spent all our summers together. This was the first year we were splitting up.

How did we get so close? This story is a bit embarrassing, but just listen, ok? Our parents used to be tight; (I'm crossing my fingers right now—yeah they were like this). Our dads were in a band called the "Bipolar Clouds" (I know, what the heck?) According to Alek's mom, all they did was sit around and eat potato chips. Impressive, huh? Well all our moms sat around talking about their bum husbands, and when we were born (all over the process of three months), they still wanted to talk about their bum husbands. It was like some joy they had or something, and the dads still wanted to eat potato chips. Yep.

Over the years, our parents have spread apart, but we've stayed the same. Well almost. I mean, we've changed and all, but we're still best buds. Our friendship has been tested a few times, like the time Weston's dad died, (our parents sort of drifted apart after that) and the time where my dad took off and moved to West Virginia, but we've managed to get through it. We've always had each other. But this summer, we wouldn't. But the jacket kept us together. This is our story—laced together by the jacket, like shoelaces on a shoe.

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	2. Chapter 1

I think I really like this story.

* * *

Chapter 2:

"_…The true test of manhood is helping, not fighting._" –_Voice of Youth Advocates_

* * *

"Put it on," yelped Jorge as he shoved a random jacket towards Alek. He hurriedly pushed Alek into a dressing room before he could run out and get the earring that he'd been fingering longingly.

Alek opened up the curtains. "So?" He walked out hesitantly, looking doubtfully at the jacket that Jorge had given him.

Jason stared. "Alek, you look amazing."

"Really?" Alek said, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He realized that he did look great. The jacket, which was a darkish green color went great with his short spiky light brown hair, and emphasized his piercings. His arms seemed to fit in the jacket and the jacket wrapped around his broad shoulders—which was surprising—on many occasions Alek's sleeves had been to long for him. It traced down to around his knees—well it _was _one of those long jackets—but didn't make him look like he was wearing a dress or something. His hazel eyes seemed to shine more with the darker jacket, which happened to be one of those button-up ones that he would never wear. (He usually didn't care what he wore—mainly Alek wore brand names and jeans that were all ripped up. Alek preferred zip-up jackets or sweatshirts usually ugly and black).

"Here," he said, pulling off the jacket and throwing it to Weston. "You like jackets—you put it on."

Weston pulled on the jacket on top of his "My Chemical Romance" shirt. He slowly buttoned it, tracing his fingers over the small button pins attached to the collar; one which read "_You only have one life. Do something._"

Then he turned around, waiting for his friends' approval.

"West you fool," said Jorge. "When did you get so hot?"

The jacket wasn't as long on West as it was on Jason, but it had the same effect. His coffee-colored hair blended with the green in the coat, making him look like the perfection of nature and the faint greenish tints made his eyes look like a forest from one of those vacation magazines. The jacket was long enough to cover his long arms—West's arms were longs while Alek's were a bit shorter—and they seemed to hug his waist, making him look thin and tall and elegant, like some sort of duke or prince. A very strange prince. This however, was exactly the type of clothing West liked. He arched his eyebrows, studying himself in the mirror.

"Well, I am b-e-a-utiful, aren't I?" he said, grinning, and arching another eyebrow.

"Stuff it," said Alek, a bit put off that West looked so good in the jacket, that maybe he couldn't compete with his friend's looks.

"Don't worry Alek," Weston tried to comfort him, "you looked as great as I did, maybe I just looked a tad better."

"Ah shut up," said Jorge amiably.

Jason was standing awkwardly near a clothing rack. He knew what was coming next.

"Here Jason," said West, handing him the jacket. "You try it on, Mr. Gorgeous."

Jason's face colored, and he grabbed the jacket, pulling it on, his fingers fumbling as he buttoned it.

"Jason you show-off," Jorge yelped, "you just had to make us all feel bad, now did you?"

Jason blushed, "No."

"He's just kidding," snapped Weston impatiently. "Turn around."

Jason turned slowly, and Weston grinned. "You're right Jorge. He did have to make us feel bad."

The green jacket seemed to close over Jason's thin shoulders, and wrapped around his lanky frame. It hugged his waistline, and the dark green color brought out the lightness of the color in his eyes, making them look like light green slivers of ice. It brought out the paleness of his skin—for Jason was not that tan, unlike Weston—and made him look fragile and dramatic. It even brought out the dark lashes that covered his eyes, and his intense bangs stood out even more than usual. This however, was not something Jason would usually wear. He usually wore plain clothing—jeans and t-shirts (without brand names), that did not draw more attention to himself that his looks already did.

Nervously, and almost eager to get rid of it, he pulled it off and handed it to Jorge, saying, "You try it."

Skating was for Jason—not clothing. He was an amazing skater—well in fact, he _was_ going to some sort of a skate camp this summer. West was heading for a camp for those who had "artistic" talents—in his case, singing. Jorge had broken out laughing the first time he heard. West was a great singer, but he hated singing in public—because… well, let's just say he had reached puberty and his voice was going through a bizarre stage. Alek was staying at home, and Jorge was going to visit his dad, who he flat-out hated, and was only visiting because his mom made him.

Jorge accepted the jacket from Jason, and pulled it on, flexing in the mirror. Jason grinned.

Jorge turned around, swiping back a few stray hairs from his forehead. "Well you guys?"

They were staring in amazement. "Oh my God Jorge," whispered Alek.

"What?" Jorge quickly looked around. "Do I look bad or something?" He started to rip off the jacket, but there was a cry of protest from West.

"Bad?" West gasped. "Jorge you look b-e-a-utiful, if you don't mind me saying…"

Jorge studied himself in the mirror. He did. It was the truth. The jacket seemed to make his hair glow a shiny blonde and his eyes looked as if he had suddenly outlined them in eyeliner. The color of his eyes was brought out like a tall, icy mountain or something. The jacket bent inwards and made him look intense and dramatic. He whirled around to look at his friends, and it was like fire had burned against him and everything seemed to stop.

"This jacket is magic."

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	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 3:

"_Friends are like stars. Sometimes you don't see them, but they're always there."_ –Anonymous

* * *

Jason let out a small groan as he managed to crawl through the window of Jorge's loft. They had entered here since they were about six, always climbing up the thatching, up onto his roof, opening the window, and climbing in. Jorge left it open all the time, in case any of his friends ever wanted to chill at his place to cool off. His friends hardly ever did—it was more likely that Jorge was mad and he wanted to cool off—either angry at his father or his mother.

Jason landed with a _thump_ in Jorge's room, and curled up on his bed. "Hey… so do you have it?"

Jorge smiled, "Of course," he said, indicating a green jacket.

Jason grinned back, "So, we're just waiting for Alek and West now?"

Jorge nodded, "Alek has to come through the front door though. Just after we left, he sprained his ankle. No climbing for him."

"How'd he do that?"

"He tripped over a manhole while he was skipping."

Jason chuckled quietly, shaking his head. Alek, Alek, Alek. He would miss him this summer.

There was a ringing of a doorbell from downstairs, the voice of Alek politely saying hello to Jorge's mother, and then loud thumping as he managed to limp upstairs.

"So how long do you have to wear that for?" Jason asked when he came in, indicating an ankle brace that Alek had on.

"One week," Alek said calmly, "it didn't hurt that much. You were probably wishing it did, didn't you?" He absentmindedly scratched his eyebrow ring as Jason tried not to grimace.

Jorge, however, was looking expectantly out the window. "It's Weston's turn today."

The guys were assigned to bring some sort of snack every time they met. They took turns in rotations. If Alek was chosen, he usually brought some rock-hard cookies that his mom had tried to make along with a couple of sodas. If it was Jorge's turn, he usually ransacked his fridge at the last minute and therefore his snacks were unpredictable—ranging from left-over Chinese food to a package of moldy cheese. And of course, none of the guys would ever forget the one time when Jason had run out of food, and ran to his fridge and brought them each a raw egg, failing to mention that they were uncooked. West, assuming that they were boiled, had smashed the egg on his head, promptly screamed, ran for the shower, and refused to talk to Jason for a week. West mainly brought chips or something. But today, since it was their last day together, he said he was planning a "surprise."

There was a loud clambering from the window as Weston managed to squeeze in, holding a huge bag. The three guys glanced at him.

"So?"

West pulled out a coffee machine and a bag of sugar, along with a pitcher of cream.

"You have got to be kidding me," laughed Jorge, shaking his head.

West ignored him, plugged the machine in, and pulled out a bag of coffee beans.

"Let's get started then," he said, ignoring the faces trying hard not to laugh.

"Started on what?" asked Alek. "The coffee?"

"No!" West snapped. "The rules of course."

"What rules?" was the collective reply.

"The rules for wearing the Traveling Jacket, of course."

"We need rules?" asked Jason dazedly.

"Of course we do."

And of course they made them. West could push his way into anything. He pulled out a spiral notebook and a pen and handed them to Alek after writing "The Brotherhood of the Traveling Jacket agrees to these rules" with flourish. "You do the first one."

Alek scrawled in a number one. "Uh…" he said uncertainly.

"Hurry up," said a West, whose brow was furrowed in frustration. The coffee wasn't turning out the way he liked it.

Alek hurriedly scrawled in a rule and passed it to Jorge, who said, "That's disgusting. Not washing it?"

"It's a good idea," noted Jason. "We could lose ourselves that way… Put your rule down, Jorge."

Jorge scribbled in another rule, while West continued to fumble with the coffee machine. Jorge passed it to Jason, who wrote in another, and West who, ignoring his coffee machine for a second, and scratched in another rule. They worked on the rest of the rules together, and soon it was complete. Ten rules.

_We, (Weston, Jason, Jorge, and Alek), from now on referred to as the Brotherhood have to follow these rules on penalty of death or having to eat five raw eggs or jumping off a balcony or having to wear high heels for three months. These are the rules—follow them, or go home:_

_You cannot wash the jacket._

_You must never say "I'm ugly" in the jacket, because all are "b-e-a-utiful" in the jacket._

_You have to write what you're doing on the jacket over the summer, so the brothers know what you're doing._

_You cannot lend the jacket to a girl (or a guy for that matter), even if she (or he) looks really cold._

_If you lose the jacket, you will have to do all of the following listed above._

_You cannot scratch at your crotch or your armpit while wearing the jacket because it just looks weird._

_You have to call/write/talk to in person to your brothers. If you ignore them, the other brothers (especially Jorge, haha) will personally break down and cry._

_You have to send the jacket from brother to brother. If you keep it, the other brothers will promptly kick you out of the Brotherhood forever. However, you may give the jacket to a brother in need._

_If you tuck in your shirt when you are wearing the jacket, you will have to do one of the above punishments._

_Remember, jacket hotness; therefore, your friends hot, and you hot. In other words, love your friends._

Right then West's coffee machine exploded. It spilled all over Jorge's carpet, to his disappointment, and the rest of the night was spent mopping up the floor. Their last night together was over. They hugged (the way guys hugged), and set off, waving to their friends—waiting to see what the summer would bring them.

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	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 4:

"_Sarcasm is the protest of the weak,_" –Gene Forrester, _A Separate Peace_.

"_Naturally_," –Phineas, _A Separate Peace_.

Jorge groaned as the plane slammed to a landing. Already visiting his father. He hated his dad. He'd hated him ever since he was eleven—when his dad had taken off and never come back. He was ashamed of his dad—if he ever had a son, he knew he would never do something like that to him. Jorge had thought he'd never hear from his dad again.

But then he had called back. Asking Jorge to forgive him, asking Jorge to love him again. Jorge had hung up, feeling the bitter anger swallow him. Jorge got mad easily.

His dad hadn't cared when he'd cried his heart out at night, had he? His dad hadn't been there when he asked his mom where Daddy had gone, had he? His dad hadn't been there when he wrote silent letters in his head, trying to see his father again—see the person in the monster he had become. His dad wasn't there at the band practices; his dad wasn't there at all those lonely hockey games—his dad wasn't there for it all. He'd missed it all.

Mom had been there. Mom listened to him. Mom supported him. Mom was there for every single thing that Dad wasn't. But Mom forgave more easily than Jorge did. That's why she'd shipped him off to West Virginia when his dad had asked to see him over the summer.

Jorge hadn't seen his dad for five years, seeing that he was now sixteen. He hadn't spoken to him since he was twelve. And now he was going to meet him.

_Here goes nothing_, he thought as his heart hammered in his chest. He wished he could be anywhere but here.

xxx

Weston's yawn nearly split his head open as his plane smoothly landed. Putting his iPod away, he stretched out, his long arms hitting Jason who sat next to him. (Jason's and West's camps were both located in Los Angeles; they would be pretty close this summer). Jason moaned and shoved a carton of orange juice from the airplane meal into West's lap. (Jason particularly didn't like planes; they made him more nervous than usual). A girl threw Jason a hopeful glance, but he ignored it, and said, "This is it, then?"

West nodded, with a pang of sadness through his chest. He'd miss Jason.

As the plane finally stopped its movement, West grabbed his backpack full of sugar, coffee beans, his iPod, and the Traveling Jacket, and grimly got off the plane, only stopping to give Jason a quick hug. He didn't look back. West hadn't looked back ever since his dad had died. It hurt too much.

He didn't want to remember what had happened those days after his dad died. He didn't look back at Jason now. He couldn't stand to see the pain that filled Jason's eyes. Jason was someone who needed someone there with him—always. West, being the oldest of the gang sometimes felt as if he should protect his friends—always the leader, always taking charge. He felt Jason, who was the youngest, was his responsibility sometimes.

He ran inside to get his suitcase from the conveyor belt, grunting with effort, and almost dying as a suitcase flattened his foot.

"Oh my God I'm so sorry," came a voice. A girl.

West looked up, dizzy with pain. It was a tall, athletic looking girl with long, shiny brown hair and an expression full of anxiety on her face. Her forehead was furrowed with lines of distress, and with a small whine, she managed to haul her suitcase off West's foot.

"Sorry," she muttered, managing to escape before he could say anything else.

West decided just to ignore it, hauled his suitcase up, and limped towards a man holding a sign that read, "Los Angeles Camp for Performing and Visual Arts."

The girl was in front of him, and when she saw him her cheeks flushed a violent shade of dark pink. The man asked her for her name and what she would be doing.

"Brenna Porter. Visual art."

The man, a tall warty one with a beard, raised one of his eyebrows as West straggled along, limping, noticing the orange juice on his crotch where Jason had spilled it, and asked him what his name was once "Sarah Kaplan, Singer," had gone. (Sarah was a dirty blonde haired girl, and she immediately got together with the girls that were gossiping about something or other).

"And you are?"

"Weston McArthur. Singer," he managed to groan. He noticed that that Brenna was hiding behind the large group of girls talking excitedly. She saw her looking at him, and lowered her eyes, her face still flushed.

So far, the jacket hadn't brought him too much luck. Maybe he had to wear it instead.

xxx

Jason tried to smile at Weston when he left, but he couldn't help it. He was nervous—even scared. He knew it hurt West when he, Jason that is, was hurt. West had an overprotective nature, and always wanted everything to be ok. If it wasn't, he blamed himself.

He reached under the chair in front of him and grabbed his backpack, his hand trembling.

_Stop it_, he told himself. _You're going to be alright._

He walked slowly off the plane, smiling slightly at the flight attendants who wished him a "Good Day," down a couple of elevators, and towards the conveyor belt, ignoring all the yearning looks and smiles and desperate glances of the girls.

Everywhere there were girls. Tall girls, short girls, thin girls, fat girls. And they always wanted to know him. He was sick of it.

How would they know who he actually was? Jason pulled up the hood of his brand-less sweatshirt; maybe they'd ignore him more if they couldn't see his face as well.

No. It didn't work. A blonde girl brushed up next to him and smiled. "Do I know you?"

Jason grimaced. "No, I don't think you do."

Ignoring her, he pushed ahead, and managed to pull his suitcase—a dark black one—off the conveyor belt. Pulling it, he went up to a slim lady who held a sign reading, "Los Angeles Skating Camp."

"I'm Jason Escalante," he said.

She studied him for a second or two, her eyes drifting over his body, and Jason winced in discomfort. Then, she simply put a check on her clipboard, and pointed out a bus waiting outside.

Jason pulled his stuff outside, handed his suitcase to a man who loaded it on his bus, noticing that the man had a lot of pimples. Almost involuntarily, he reached up and brushed his hand over his forehead. Flawless white skin, not marked by anything. Then, his face getting hot, he stumbled up the bus steps.

He was aware of what seemed like hundreds of eyes on him—longing ones of girls, and jealous ones of guys. Trying to shake off the feeling as though he was doing something embarrassing, he sat down hard in an empty seat. The girl in the seat across from him leaned forward.

Her hair was a light shade of orange, and freckles covered her face. "Hi. I'm Cassie, or you can call me Cazz."

Jason grunted in return. "Jason." He didn't like to talk to people he didn't know. He hated meeting new people—especially girls, since they always seemed to decide right there and then that he should be their future boyfriend. Boys were usually jealous of him, thinking that he was stuck-up or something.

She indicated a tough-looking guy sitting next to her. "This is my boyfriend, Patrick." His hair was the same color as hers, only it covered his eyes, making him look like some sort of sheepdog.

"You can call me Pat," he said, amiably, putting out his hand for Jason to shake.

Jason shook it. And then he turned away, ignoring their attempts to strike up a conversation. He wished they would reach camp soon. When he was skating, he knew who he was.

xxx

Alek scratched his eyebrow ring. And then his chin ring. He seemed to be pretty itchy today. Maybe he was just nervous. Well, this _was_ his first interview—for a job at Dolly's Ice Cream Parlor.

"Alek, honey?" That was his mom, probably lugging around his baby sister, Nikki. "Would you help me in here?"

Alek launched himself off his bed, and then slowly dragging his feet into the kitchen. "What?"

He studied the ground. Marshmallows and Rice Krispies littered the ground. His mom had probably been trying to make Rice Krispies Treats.

"Would you, Alek?" His mom looked at him. Her eyes were tired. Her eyes had been tired a lot, recently.

Alek nodded quietly, pulling out the nifty little vacuum cleaner his dad had bought. ("It's easier to carry around," he had explained, "it's lighter.") He finished, kissed his mom good-bye, and was almost out of the door, when his mom called him back in.

"Take out those piercings," she snapped. "How are you going to get a job looking like your work at Piercing Pagoda?"

He ignored her, and pulled out his earring to please her. But after he slammed his car door shut, he put it back in again, driving to Dolly's Ice Cream Parlor. (He loved driving; it made all the stress go out of the day). He parked his car, narrowly missing the window of a car next to him, closed the door, and stood up, his legs feeling like rubber. Taking a deep breath, he walked inside. The man, whom Alek had heard was named Gary Smith, indicated a chair.

"Now, why do you want to work here?" he said, spraying spit all over Alek's face.

Alek pulled out one finger, and wiped off the glob of saliva. This was going to be a long day.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 3:

"_Sarcasm is the protest of the weak,_" –Gene Forrester, _A Separate Peace_.

"_Naturally_," –Phineas, _A Separate Peace_.

Jorge groaned as the plane slammed to a landing. Already visiting his father. He hated his dad. He'd hated him ever since he was eleven—when his dad had taken off and never come back. He was ashamed of his dad—if he ever had a son, he knew he would never do something like that to him. Jorge had thought he'd never hear from his dad again.

But then he had called back. Asking Jorge to forgive him, asking Jorge to love him again. Jorge had hung up, feeling the bitter anger swallow him. Jorge got mad easily.

His dad hadn't cared when he'd cried his heart out at night, had he? His dad hadn't been there when he asked his mom where Daddy had gone, had he? His dad hadn't been there when he wrote silent letters in his head, trying to see his father again—see the person in the monster he had become. His dad wasn't there at the band practices; his dad wasn't there at all those lonely hockey games—his dad wasn't there for it all. He'd missed it all.

Mom had been there. Mom listened to him. Mom supported him. Mom was there for every single thing that Dad wasn't. But Mom forgave more easily than Jorge did. That's why she'd shipped him off to West Virginia when his dad had asked to see him over the summer.

Jorge hadn't seen his dad for five years, seeing that he was now sixteen. He hadn't spoken to him since he was twelve. And now he was going to meet him.

_Here goes nothing_, he thought as his heart hammered in his chest. He wished he could be anywhere but here.

xxx

Weston's yawn nearly split his head open as his plane smoothly landed. Putting his iPod away, he stretched out, his long arms hitting Jason who sat next to him. (Jason's and West's camps were both located in Los Angeles; they would be pretty close this summer). Jason moaned and shoved a carton of orange juice from the airplane meal into West's lap. (Jason particularly didn't like planes; they made him more nervous than usual). A girl threw Jason a hopeful glance, but he ignored it, and said, "This is it, then?"

West nodded, with a pang of sadness through his chest. He'd miss Jason.

As the plane finally stopped its movement, West grabbed his backpack full of sugar, coffee beans, his iPod, and the Traveling Jacket, and grimly got off the plane, only stopping to give Jason a quick hug. He didn't look back. West hadn't looked back ever since his dad had died. It hurt too much.

He didn't want to remember what had happened those days after his dad died. He didn't look back at Jason now. He couldn't stand to see the pain that filled Jason's eyes. Jason was someone who needed someone there with him—always. West, being the oldest of the gang sometimes felt as if he should protect his friends—always the leader, always taking charge. He felt Jason, who was the youngest, was his responsibility sometimes.

He ran inside to get his suitcase from the conveyor belt, grunting with effort, and almost dying as a suitcase flattened his foot.

"Oh my God I'm so sorry," came a voice. A girl.

West looked up, dizzy with pain. It was a tall, athletic looking girl with long, shiny brown hair and an expression full of anxiety on her face. Her forehead was furrowed with lines of distress, and with a small whine, she managed to haul her suitcase off West's foot.

"Sorry," she muttered, managing to escape before he could say anything else.

West decided just to ignore it, hauled his suitcase up, and limped towards a man holding a sign that read, "Los Angeles Camp for Performing and Visual Arts."

The girl was in front of him, and when she saw him her cheeks flushed a violent shade of dark pink. The man asked her for her name and what she would be doing.

"Brenna Porter. Visual art."

The man, a tall warty one with a beard, raised one of his eyebrows as West straggled along, limping, noticing the orange juice on his crotch where Jason had spilled it, and asked him what his name was once "Sarah Kaplan, Singer," had gone. (Sarah was a dirty blonde haired girl, and she immediately got together with the girls that were gossiping about something or other).

"And you are?"

"Weston McArthur. Singer," he managed to groan. He noticed that that Brenna was hiding behind the large group of girls talking excitedly. She saw her looking at him, and lowered her eyes, her face still flushed.

So far, the jacket hadn't brought him too much luck. Maybe he had to wear it instead.

xxx

Jason tried to smile at Weston when he left, but he couldn't help it. He was nervous—even scared. He knew it hurt West when he, Jason that is, was hurt. West had an overprotective nature, and always wanted everything to be ok. If it wasn't, he blamed himself.

He reached under the chair in front of him and grabbed his backpack, his hand trembling.

_Stop it_, he told himself. _You're going to be alright._

He walked slowly off the plane, smiling slightly at the flight attendants who wished him a "Good Day," down a couple of elevators, and towards the conveyor belt, ignoring all the yearning looks and smiles and desperate glances of the girls.

Everywhere there were girls. Tall girls, short girls, thin girls, fat girls. And they always wanted to know him. He was sick of it.

How would they know who he actually was? Jason pulled up the hood of his brand-less sweatshirt; maybe they'd ignore him more if they couldn't see his face as well.

No. It didn't work. A blonde girl brushed up next to him and smiled. "Do I know you?"

Jason grimaced. "No, I don't think you do."

Ignoring her, he pushed ahead, and managed to pull his suitcase—a dark black one—off the conveyor belt. Pulling it, he went up to a slim lady who held a sign reading, "Los Angeles Skating Camp."

"I'm Jason Escalante," he said.

She studied him for a second or two, her eyes drifting over his body, and Jason winced in discomfort. Then, she simply put a check on her clipboard, and pointed out a bus waiting outside.

Jason pulled his stuff outside, handed his suitcase to a man who loaded it on his bus, noticing that the man had a lot of pimples. Almost involuntarily, he reached up and brushed his hand over his forehead. Flawless white skin, not marked by anything. Then, his face getting hot, he stumbled up the bus steps.

He was aware of what seemed like hundreds of eyes on him—longing ones of girls, and jealous ones of guys. Trying to shake off the feeling as though he was doing something embarrassing, he sat down hard in an empty seat. The girl in the seat across from him leaned forward.

Her hair was a light shade of orange, and freckles covered her face. "Hi. I'm Cassie, or you can call me Cazz."

Jason grunted in return. "Jason." He didn't like to talk to people he didn't know. He hated meeting new people—especially girls, since they always seemed to decide right there and then that he should be their future boyfriend. Boys were usually jealous of him, thinking that he was stuck-up or something.

She indicated a tough-looking guy sitting next to her. "This is my boyfriend, Patrick." His hair was the same color as hers, only it covered his eyes, making him look like some sort of sheepdog.

"You can call me Pat," he said, amiably, putting out his hand for Jason to shake.

Jason shook it. And then he turned away, ignoring their attempts to strike up a conversation. He wished they would reach camp soon. When he was skating, he knew who he was.

xxx

Alek scratched his eyebrow ring. And then his chin ring. He seemed to be pretty itchy today. Maybe he was just nervous. Well, this _was_ his first interview—for a job at Dolly's Ice Cream Parlor.

"Alek, honey?" That was his mom, probably lugging around his baby sister, Nikki. "Would you help me in here?"

Alek launched himself off his bed, and then slowly dragging his feet into the kitchen. "What?"

He studied the ground. Marshmallows and Rice Krispies littered the ground. His mom had probably been trying to make Rice Krispies Treats.

"Would you, Alek?" His mom looked at him. Her eyes were tired. Her eyes had been tired a lot, recently.

Alek nodded quietly, pulling out the nifty little vacuum cleaner his dad had bought. ("It's easier to carry around," he had explained, "it's lighter.") He finished, kissed his mom good-bye, and was almost out of the door, when his mom called him back in.

"Take out those piercings," she snapped. "How are you going to get a job looking like your work at Piercing Pagoda?"

He ignored her, and pulled out his earring to please her. But after he slammed his car door shut, he put it back in again, driving to Dolly's Ice Cream Parlor. (He loved driving; it made all the stress go out of the day). He parked his car, narrowly missing the window of a car next to him, closed the door, and stood up, his legs feeling like rubber. Taking a deep breath, he walked inside. The man, whom Alek had heard was named Gary Smith, indicated a chair.

"Now, why do you want to work here?" he said, spraying spit all over Alek's face.

Alek pulled out one finger, and wiped off the glob of saliva. This was going to be a long day.

Chapter 4:

"_Imagination is more important that knowledge_," –Albert Einstein

"_So tell me, why do we go to school again?"_—Jorge Kramer

Jorge drummed his hand on the window in awkward silence, looking anywhere but at his dad, next to him. His dad, whose short haircut gleamed with sweat, his nervous, ratty looking eyes darting around like mice being chased by a cat. He was sitting in the front of a car, with a man he hardly knew (but knew he hated), going to a house he had never been to before. Jorge's dad, Connor, looked over at him nervously, as if he didn't know what to do either.

He silently plugged the keys into the car, pushed the pedal, and started driving, still in complete silence. Connor tried to break the silence. "So… how's school, Jorge?"

"Fine."

Silence again. "Try out for any sports?"

"No."

"So, what do you do nowadays?" It was a general question, open to everything. Connor seemed to think that he could _force_ his son to talk to him.

"Nothing." Jorge felt the anger bubble up inside of him. _You would know if you had spent time with me. You would know if you still lived with me. You wouldn't have to go around asking stupid questions._

"What do you do with your friends? What are their names again… Jake? Alex? Umm… William?"

"Jason. Alek. West." _You would know if you'd stayed with me, like Mom did._ "We're in a band."

"Really? What's your band name? What do you play?"

"Hearts Rendered Useless. Bass."

"We're going to have fun this summer, you know."

"Whatever."

Connor was giving up. He couldn't make his son talk. They passed the rest of the ride in silence, Connor every once in awhile trying to strike up a conversation again—Jorge not putting up with it. _I really hate you_.

Connor finally swerved to a stop at a medium-sized house, painted a friendly shade of green, with white windows and a white door. He opened his door, and his dad went to get his suitcase.

To Jorge's surprise, a tall lady with dark brown hair came running out the door. "Connor! You're home!" She turned to Jorge. "Oh, you must be Jorge. Connor has told me all about you!"

Connor stood there, looking awkward and nervous. "Jorge. This is my fiancée, Kathy. We're getting married at the end of the summer."

The words didn't seem to hit Jorge at first. Then realization broke through and everything seemed to explode in his mind. He leaned over and vomited.

xxx

Alek sighed, pulling out a cheery light-blue smock that he was supposed to wear. Embroidered in the corner were the words _Dolly's Ice Cream Parlor: Scream for Ice Cream_. Gary had told him that he would have to start tomorrow. Alek was glad he didn't have to start today. Gary had sprayed so much spit on him, he had to go home and take a shower.

_I wonder how Weston's doing with the jacket_, he thought to himself. _I hope I get it soon._

The guys had decided that the jacket would start with West, be sent to Alek, who would send it to Jorge, and then mailed to Jason, and all over again. Each person would keep it for a week, so each brother would get the jacket for at least three weeks during the summer.

Alek climbed into his car and started to drive. He stopped at a red light, and patiently tapped his fingers on the dashboard. The light turned green, and he pressed down on his pedal.

All at once, a girl burst out of nowhere, her dark hair ablaze. Alek slammed hard on his brakes, his horn blaring and his car swerving in all directions, screaming, "Oh my God!"

He heard other people screaming, their horns honking as his car swerved out of control, crashing into a streetlight.

His car stopped, but he was jerked forward as another car slammed into him. His airbag exploded, and for a second he couldn't breathe. He was aware of blood dripping down from a gash on top of his forehead, but ignored the pain, opening his smashed door and running out.

"Oh my God, did I hit her?"

The girl was lying on the ground, panting hard. She seemed perfectly ok, besides being a little shocked. Alek's head felt light as he let out sighs of relief. He staggered, fell, and everything went black.

xxx

The bus pulled into a clean, smoothly paved parking lot, and Jason smiled for the first time for that bus trip. He was here.

He looked over at Cazz who was nestled in Patrick's arms. Both of them were sleeping, seeing that Jason had ignored every single one of their conversation starters. Patrick looked like a Greek God come to life, Jason realized, while Cazz looked like a foreign princess from another country. Everybody looked younger in their sleep, he supposed, because, when West had been leaning on his shoulder in the plane, he looked younger too.

Jason smiled sadly. It was a good thing he had been born with friends, he thought, because he was terrible at making them. Afraid to let anyone get close, in case he or she just judged him like everybody else did.

Luckily he was here. He'd find himself soon, and perhaps show everyone else who he was as well.

xxx

West stood comfortably against a wall as the warty man showed him his room. Room #27, Building C. He'd remember that.

He stumbled in and threw his suitcase on one of the beds. Looking over, he realized that he had a roommate—a messy one. The sheets were scattered everywhere, and there were little random sketches of birds, trees, skies, and mountains.

An artist then. Weston leaned over to look at one of the sketches, and realized the detail and the struggles that must have gone into them. They were beautiful. This was definitely art at its best. He picked up one of the sketches to examine it, and there was a voice from the doorway. "Put it down."

West dropped the piece of paper, and it drifted onto the ground. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I just wanted to see—it looked really—I'm sorry."

The teen was sort of short, buff-looking, and his forehead was creased, his eyebrows furrowing over dark brown eyes. His hair was cut in a buzz; it was dark brownish-blackish. "It's ok," he muttered. "I'm Mad."

"Excuse me?" West asked politely. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you angry."

"No, it's my name. My real one's Maximus, but you probably can understand why I don't want to go by that." His voice was low, like a snarl in a dog's throat. "So you can call me Mad. I guess I'll be rooming with you for like," he chuckled hoarsely, "the summer."

West tried to smile. This rough looking boy didn't look capable of producing those pictures. He sighed. It was going to be a long summer.

To: Jason Escalante

From: Weston McArthur

Subject: hey.

Weston McArthur wrote:

I don't know what's wrong. jacket is trouble.

Maybe it has to get warmed up or something:

1. Girl, Brenna, dropped suitcase on my footswelling, bruised and hurts.

2. Crazy roommateMad (or Maximus?)

Otherwise, all good. First play/musicalPhantom of the Opera. Tryouts are tomorrow.

Alek's mom called… did you hear? Hit some girl with his car.

Jorge's Dad getting married?

And you?

Bye Pretty Boy, jk

--West


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

"_Denial ain't just another river in Egypt,_" –Mark Twain

Alek woke up, faint buzzing in his head. He leapt up and screamed when he saw two huge brown eyes staring right at him. "OH MY GOD!"

The two eyes moved backwards, and Alek could see it was the girl that he had almost nailed with the car. _Where was he?_

Looking wildly around, Alek saw the beeping monitors, the white sheet over him, the curtains—he was in a hospital. Noticing a stinging from his forehead, he reached up his hand and felt a piece of gauze.

The girl looked at him. Alek glanced at her. It was all her fault he was here, so his glance wasn't a happy one.

She didn't look intimidated at all. With large brown eyes that somehow reminded him of a deer, and dark brown hair, she smiled. Alek flinched.

"I'm Bay Lohemann. I'm sorry you almost hit me. It was sort of scary actually."

"What are you talking about?" Alek was bewildered. "I scared you?" He was shouting now. "YOU CAME OUT OF NOWHERE, I SWERVED MY CAR OUT OF THE WAY, GOT HIT BY ANOTHER, AND YOU SAY _YOU_ WERE SCARED?" Then a thought hit him. "What happened to my car anyway? Why did you come running out of nowhere?"

"I'm schizophrenic," she said simply.

Alek sat there for a second. He didn't get it. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't remember.

"It's sort of multiple-personality disorder," she said. "I was in one of my bad sides. I sort of don't know what to do when I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I scared you."

"It's ok…" Alek trailed off. Now he felt bad—and he didn't want to. It hadn't been his fault—it had been her fault.

"Your car was pretty much destroyed," she told him. "My dad said he'd pay for a new one."

As Alek mulled over it some more, he realized that the girl looked familiar. "Haven't I seen you somewhere?"

"My dad is Mr. Lohemann. He's a millionaire; he donated all that money to the hurricane in New Orleans—I just moved in to here from California. You've probably seen me on the news or something."

Great. He'd almost killed a millionaire's kid. Probably lawsuits filed against him soon.

xxx

Meanwhile, Jorge was staring at a pair of large brown eyes as well. He was sitting at an awkward dinner between his dad, his soon to be step-mother, and across from his soon to be step-sister.

Connor noticed his frustration. "I know this was sort of sudden and everything Jorge, but this is Kathy, as you've already met," he flinched softly at the memory of Jorge puking everywhere, "and this is Julie, her daughter."

Julie threw a distrustful look at him. She wasn't someone you would label beautiful. She wasn't even pretty. With her short black hair and distrustful looking eyes, she sort of looked scary actually. But then she smiled a nervous smile, and Jorge saw that she didn't want to be here as much as he didn't.

Jorge choked on a potato. Julie grinned—she had a wolfish grin, a mischievous one, but when Connor looked over at her, it disappeared into a small sad look, as quick as someone spreading peanut butter. Then, Jorge looked deep into her revealing eyes—she wasn't only sad, she was scared. Dead frightened.

_Someone's hurt her before_, he thought. _I wonder who._

Somehow Julie looked really familiar. Jorge was pretty sure he'd seen her somewhere, only he couldn't remember where.

His dad looked over at him, probably wondering why his plate was still full with his potatoes, steak, and green beans. Then he glanced over to Julie. A smile quickly appeared on his face, and disappeared just as fast.

"Do you two know each other?" he asked.

Jorge didn't look at him. He'd practiced that. His dad had no right to get married without telling him, and then dragging him all the way out here, away from Mom who really cared about him, to show him his new perfect family and his dysfunctional step-daughter.

"Do I know you?" he asked, hoping Julie would answer the question.

She didn't take it as a corny pick-up line. She studied his face. Jorge could feel her eyes traveling over his smooth skin, his long, fluffy-looking hair, his bluish-greenish eyes.

"No," she said quietly. "I don't think so."

That was the end of that. But as Jorge fell asleep that night in an unfamiliar bed in a room right next to hers, he couldn't help feeling that he'd met her somewhere. But then those thoughts were blocked out by what his dad had done. How could he have done that to him?

He felt tears come to his eyes, but he pushed them away. Boys didn't cry. He'd learned that a long time ago.

**Bass4HRU**: jason

**MadSkater101**: What Jorge?

**Bass4HRU**: dad is getting MARRRIED and im so p.o.'d. Kathy.

**MadSkater101**: Why don't you tell him? Tell him you're mad.

**Bass4HRU**: since when has he listened 2 me or even cared

**MadSkater101**: …I don't know. But you can always try again.

**Bass4HRU**: wut do u know—why do u always type things out—annoying

**MadSkater101**: I'm sorry.

**Bass4HRU**: since when do u know anything im sick and tired of u

**Bass4HRU**: u cant help me with anything—alek is better at that

**MadSkater101**: I'm sorry Jorge.

**MadSkater101**: I'm not very good at helping people.

**MadSkater101**: Jorge? Are you there?

**Bass4HRU**: im sry jason. its not ur fault. just feel so hurt and angry.

**MadSkater101**: It's ok. I understand.

**Bass4HRU**: so how bout u?

**MadSkater101**: ((groans))

**Bass4HRU**: come on. u r gorrrgeous… everybody luvs u.

**MadSkater101**: That's what I'm afraid of.

**MadSkater101 has just signed off.**

**Bass4HRU**: jason? man, im sry. i 4got.

**Bass4HRU**: jason…come back man.

**Bass4HRU**: nvmnd

**Bass4HRU has just signed off.**

xxx

West smiled. He couldn't believe it. This jacket was amazing after all.

Bending his head over and studying the stitches on his coat, he thought about how right that message was. _Do something._

Well, he'd done something. He'd gotten the lead role. How could he expect more than that? He'd tried hard—West tried hard at everything he did. Wait, scratch that. He didn't try hard for the band. The band made him think of his friends, so he erased it from his mind, and focused on his role.

_Phantom of the Opera_. He could see it now. Starring Weston McArthur. He'd swish his black cape, and Jorge would laugh at how stupid he looked. Alek would try to hide his laughter behind his hand, and Jason would smile.

His mom and d—no, he couldn't think about that now. His mom would be there. It would be perfect.

He was lost in his daydream, and almost didn't hear who else was in it. Sarah Kaplan—Christine. Well he could believe it. She was an amazing singer.

Sarah walked over to him, flipping her dirty blonde hair in his face. "Guess this is it, huh, Weston? Nice jacket, by the way."

West nodded. This was it. _This was it._

He pulled out a Sharpie from his jeans pocket, pulled the cap off with his teeth, and carefully wrote down on the front of the sleeve. _Phantom of the Opera with Sarah_.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

"_Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on cologne, and they go out and smell each other_."

"We're going to play a game," said West's instructor. Tatyna, who preferred to be called Taty.

"Great," mumbled Sarah, throwing West a sarcastic smile.

"Why don't we introduce ourselves," Taty stated, a corny looking smile on her face. "Why don't you start Sarah?"

"I'm Sarah Kaplan," Sarah started, but Taty interrupted her.

"Why not Cassandra Day?" she asked Sarah. "Why not Adair Robertson? Why not?"

Sarah caught on pretty quickly, putting on a fake French accent. "My name is Giselle Delacour, and I live in Paris. I am seventeen years of age. I like to, how do you say—sing and act. It is very fun."

"Perfect!" laughed Taty, her blonde curls ablaze. "Great at capturing the moment! Very convincing act Giselle!"

Sarah smiled cockily, as if daring someone to do better.

The next person was Mad. West had been sort of surprised that he was involved in the play, but Mad had explained he wanted to get better at acting as well as continuing his visual art career. Brenna was also there—she was going to have a small part in the play, but mainly was doing sets. However, Taty thought everybody should be included.

As Mad introduced himself as "Hank Thames, cowboy," West started to think of what he could be. He got it.

After Bren had haltingly muttered that she was "Sara Porter, college professor," Taty's eyes rested on West.

"My name is Samantha Gray. I'm eight years old and I go to Beaming Children's Elementary School. I like rainbows and clouds and bunnies. My favorite food is," West paused for a moment in his false falsetto, and continued, "ice cream and hot dogs. I have a big brother who eats a lot of food. He eats hamburgers a lot," he said, putting on an indignant frown. "My mommy says he will get fat soon."

Taty let out a high-pitched laugh. "Humor, Weston, humor. Where did you learn to speak like that?"

West grinned. "Halloween. Last year. We were fifteen…" he trailed off, painting a picture for them all.

_It was a cold night, the stormy winds blowing, but a full moon was painted in the sky. The first thing seen was a tall figure. The figure had a wig on, a brown wig with braids. He was wearing a checkered blue jumper with a white ruffled shirt inside, and carried a small basket with a stuffed Scottie dog inside._

"_Come on Jason," said West, his voice in a high falsetto. "Come on!"_

_Jason, in his "Tin Man" suit grimaced. "West, how do you manage to force us into this stuff?"_

"_It's Dorothy," West snapped impatiently, "and you're the TIN MAN, and you're taking forever."_

"_Well it's sort of hard to walk when you're stuffed into a CARDBOARD BOX," Jason said, awkwardly pointing one of his foil-covered arms down at the silver-spray painted box._

"_What you think it's easy walking in a dress?" West challenged him, throwing "Toto" in the air. "You have it easy."_

"_Well it was your idea," pointed out the scarecrow. Alek. He had straw stuffed on top of his light brown hair, was wearing a jacket that looked like a lumber jack's, and was busy scratching away at the itchy straw that poked out of the sleeves._

"_Shut up you guys," muttered an irritable Jorge, who was of course the lion. His long hair had been spiked up by Weston, and it was really bugging him. West's sister, Rae, had used her mascara to make his nose black, and he kept on sneezing, holding his limp looking tail. "This lion suit is getting really hot."_

"_Now, now, no stripping," butted in West. "If anybody strips, it's Dorothy here."_

Weston finished his story, and everybody else was cracking up. He smiled. He liked making people laugh.

xxx

Jason was led to his dorm by the man with pimples, whose name turned out to be Carl.

"Why ain't you a pretty one," he said with a small, sad smile, looking at Jason.

Jason blushed, hoping he wasn't about to be molested. He hurried into his room as fast as he could. Good. He was by himself. Or so he thought.

After he had pulled off his Etnies (ok, he did have some brand names), and unpacked his suitcase, there door opened and Patrick came in.

Trying to shake off his disappointed feeling guiltily, he raised a hand. "Hi."

"Hey," Patrick said, grinning and shaking his hair of out his eyes. Jason noted that he was pretty good-looking. Not as attractive as Jason was, but a better personality. No wonder he already had a girlfriend, while "Mr. Gorgeous" over here had never had one.

Jason wanted a girl that was kind, cared about him personally, didn't judge him write away, and would only take what he had to offer.

The only problem was that he hadn't found that type of girl yet.

Jason pulled off his plain white t-shirt, and replaced it with a grey one. Maybe he'd find a girl this summer. You never knew.

Jorge,

Yes I did almost run over a girl. You know that crazy millionaire? Daniel Lohemann? Well, I almost killed his daughter. My car is totaled—it's dead. And the guy is too lazy to pay for it. You would think since his daughter almost killed me… well she ran in the way, he would pay for it. But no. You don't have to laugh at me for it though. I'm sorry about your dad—man, that has to be tough. I'm getting that jacket in about three days—West better send it to me.

Ok, I have to go. Nikki just threw up all over Mom, and I better go help her clean up. Hang in there Jorge. Have fun. Call me if you need anything.

Alek


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

"_Darkness cannot run out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot run out hate, only love can do that." –_Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Alek was being driven to Dolly's Ice Cream Parlor by his neighbor, seeing that Bay Lohemann's rich father was "simply too busy for this kind of nonsense right now." Alek had been growling in anger. It was _Bay's _fault he had almost been killed, and her father wasn't paying for his car.

Miss Khemsky, Alek's neighbor, waved good-bye to him, and sped off. Alek shrugged. Miss Khemsky had never really liked him. His piercings had freaked her out, be he didn't really care.

He pulled on his apron, and had to explain to Gary Smith why he had a band-aid on his head and why he hadn't been at work the day before. Gary bawled him out, and Alek's face was spit-covered once again.

In an extremely bad mood, Alek got behind the ice cream counter. He put a scoop of Rainbow Sherbert in a small cup and into the fridge. He had promised Nikki, he'd bring her some ice cream. Then he started helping the line of customers.

The first customer was a girl who tried to flirt with him, but he wasn't in the mood. She didn't get anything but her ice cream. The next customer was a bratty little boy who threw his ice cream scoop on the floor, demanding that he had to put exactly fourteen M&Ms on it. His mom apologized to Alek, but didn't clean it up—so in other words, he had to do it. Looking up at the next customer, he snarled, "What are _you _doing here?"

It was Bay. Alek didn't have that great of an impression of her. In fact, he sort of hated her.

"I wanted to order some ice cream," she said in that bizarre unfazed way of hers. "May I _please_ have a scoop of Chocolate Chip?"

Alek, in a truly irritable mood, scooped up a pile of ice cream, slammed it into a cup, and handed it to her. Only to find that she didn't have any money.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" he yelled.

"I thought that I could get credit or something, seeing that you almost ran me over," she said calmly.

"No, let's get this straight Bay. YOU ALMOST KILLED ME WITH YOUR MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DISORDER! YOUR FATHER REFUSED TO PAY ME FOR MY CAR! MY BOSS YELLED AT ME! AND IT'S ALL _YOUR_ FAULT! NOW HAND OVER THE MONEY, OR GIVE THAT BACK TO ME RIGHT NOW!"

She just stared at him unblinkingly, while a small girl behind her looked up in fear at Alek, and left the shop. Finally, Bay pushed the cup of ice cream across the counter to him. Alek grabbed it up and threw it across the shop where it splattered against a window. Gary Smith came out and started ranting at him, and Alek looked around to accuse Bay. But when he looked, she was gone.

xxx

Jorge looked up sleepily. Oh God, he'd slept in. Glancing at his watch, it read 11:13.

He pulled off his covers, and screamed. It was Julie. Sitting in a chair right across from his bed, she suddenly flinched and ran to the door.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and left.

Jorge rubbed his eyes, and pushed his hair out of his face. After he took a shower, he felt more like himself. Stumbling down the stairs, he saw Julie sitting on a couch in the family room.

"Hey, are you ok?" he asked. She looked so scared.

"Yeah," she told him. "I'm sorry. I was just waiting for you to get up, because Connor and Mom aren't here."

"Where are they?"

"Planning for the _wedding_," she spat out with disgust. "Jorge, I know you don't want them to get married any more than I do."

"Oh really?" Jorge said, leaning over the top of the couch.

"Yeah, seeing that you threw up everywhere when Connor told you. I hate your dad, no offense. He's such a dork."

Jorge was about to protect his dad, but then shrugged. Why should he? He hated his dad too.

"Yeah I know. I haven't seen him for five years. He just left us, and then he called back, expecting me to forgive him."

"I guess your mom took this pretty hard," she said, her eyes full of sympathy.

"Not as hard as I did," he said with an indifferent shrug. He was lying to himself, he knew. He did want his dad back, but he just wasn't ready to forgive him.

"We could try to break them up," suggested Julie. Then her face fell. "It won't work though. They're already living together."

Jorge sighed. He'd thought of that too.

Alek,

You must really hate that girl, huh? Don't worry. You'll be fine. She'll probably start having a crush on you. What will you do then? Anyway, I'm sorry about your car. Hope things get better.

I'm sending the jacket with you. It only works if you have it on, though, remember that ok? Brenna Porter dropped a suitcase on my foot.

Anyway, it is good luck. I got the part of the phantom in _Phantom of the Opera_. That's pretty hot, isn't it? I know what you're thinking. I'll swish my cape and bring all the girls to my lair.

You think Jorge is ok? That's a lot to go through. Poor guy. Anyway, Jason… haven't heard from him, but I want to visit him soon. It won't take too long to get to. He's probably making friends and found a girlfriend. Yeah, you were supposed to laugh. I wonder if the guy's ok.

Anyway, here's the jacket. Good luck. Don't kill the girl, ok? You wouldn't be great in court.

West


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

"_Not all that glitters is gold. Not all who wander are lost." _–J.R.R. Tolkien

Jason pulled on his Emericas and grabbed his skateboard, an Enjoi with a panda on the bottom of it. They'd be learning grinds and kick-flips today. At least that's what Carl had said.

"You want to head over for breakfast with me?" asked Patrick.

"Sure," Jason said, heading out the door with his skateboard, followed by Patrick.

They headed towards a large gray building, and they met up with Cazz. Jason, feeling somewhat a third wheel, followed them to the breakfast line, which turned out to be a buffet. After breakfast, which turned out to be scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and a bunch of other stuff, there was an announcement over the loudspeaker.

"Jason Escalante, please come to the front office. You have a phone call."

Jason, his ears bright red, headed for the front office.

"Hey Jason." It was Jorge.

Jason winced inwardly, remembering their last conversation.

"How are you doing?"

"Fine, I guess." Jason flushed, even though he knew that Jorge couldn't see him.

"You're blushing right now, aren't you? Anyway, Jason, I'm really sorry about what happened the other time. You've probably made a whole lot of a better friend than me, right?"

"No." The thing about Jason was that he was always honest and genuine. "No, of course not," there was an amount of worry in his voice.

"Just kidding man, chill out," Jorge laughed from the other end. "Come on, you know I'll always love you."

Jason chuckled nervously. Then, he dropped his voice. "How are you doing Jorge?"

"I'm hanging in ok," Jorge said. "I couldn't believe that Dad would do that to me at first—but since when has he done anything nice for me?"

"Umm…" Jason was doing his best to defend Jorge's dad. He hadn't done anything good as far as Jason could see, but he didn't want to tell his friend that.

"Exactly! Anyway, I have a new step-sister too. Her name's Julie."

There was an awkward silence. Jason tried to break it. "So um… how is she?"

"She's ok. She's not pretty or anything—but I guess she's ok. She's better than her mom at least. She doesn't want to be here either."

"So what's Kathy like?"

"She's weird. She's so rich! Did you know the lady spends two hundred dollars a day just on clothes?"

"That's crazy, Jorge."

"I KNOW!"

Jason listened patiently as Jorge rambled on and on about how much he hated his dad, how mad he was, and everything else he wanted to let out. Finally, he was finished.

"So, you know West wants to come and visit you soon, right?"

"I guess."

"Ok, go skate now. Your parents paid money for this camp, you know."

"Yeah ok. Bye Jorge."

"Love you Jason. Bye."

xxx

"Alek?" It was his mom.

"Yeah?" he yelled from the top of the stairs.

"You have a package!"

Alek leapt down the stairs, taking them two by two, and almost ran over his mother.

"Wow, you're excited…"

Alek grabbed the package and tore it open. There it was! The jacket! Pulling it on, he felt the warm familiarity of his friends. Reading the note and laughing out loud, he considered it. He'd try it. He'd try not to kill Bay.

But he came pretty close to. Opening his door to head off to work, he crashed face to face with her.

"What are you doing here?" he yelped.

"I came to visit you."

"DON'T YOU HAVE ANY FRIENDS?"

"Yeah I do, but they're all in California."

"WELL GO MAKE SOME MORE!"

"I like being with you." She was honestly searching for a friend and not trying to hook up with him or anything. Alek slumped.

"Well, I'm just going to work."

"Can I come with you?"

"NO!" Gary Smith refused to even let Bay enter the store.

Alek walked to his driveway, Bay still trailing him. "GO AWAY!"

"No."

Alek got into his new Porsche, (tribute to Mr. Lohemann), and put the keys in the ignition. Starting to drive away, he suddenly felt a twinge of guilt. Sighing loudly to himself, he backed up. "Get in."

Bay opened the door and climbed in next to him.

"You know I can't spend time with you until I'm done yet, you know."

"Yeah I know. I'll come back and see you later."

_Why do I always do things like this? _Alek thought to himself. _What do I care?_

He parked, got out, and indicated that Bay go somewhere by herself, hoping that she wouldn't get run over. He couldn't afford to get a lawyer.

xxx

West grimaced as Taty made him sing the Phantom of the Opera song once again and his voice cracked in the effort, leaving his cheeks as red as newly painted fire-trucks.

Sarah managed to get through three entire scenes without the slightest mess-up. West watched as she passed him, throwing her dark blonde hair in his face again. She wasn't truly beautiful, not in the way as some girls were, but she was attractive enough. Crystal clear blue-eyes, the slight freckles… oh, and she had the hair. It seemed to glow almost, a dark golden glow that looked real and intense, not like the light-bulb type of glow that came from those artificial girls. He noticed that she smelled really nice.

"Your hair looks really pretty," he managed to choke out, wanting to kick himself.

She smiled. Her teeth were perfect in even, straight rows, reminding West somehow of Jason. "Thanks West. Hey, where's that jacket of yours?"

There. She had given him something to talk about.

He started telling her about the jacket, liking the way she laughed and how her eyes lit up. He wasn't quite done with the story yet when practice was over, and he gathered up courage. "So, do you want to go get coffee or something?"

"Sure," she said with a smile. "That would be nice."

xxx

Jorge hung up, feeling relieved. He'd let out some of the emotions bottled up inside of him.

"Jorge!" his dad called. "It's time for dinner!"

Jorge walked slowly down to dinner where Kathy had prepared another amazing meal—this time chicken, biscuits, and potatoes. Jorge couldn't say too much about her, but she was a good cook.

He looked at her as he ate, wondering what on earth had possessed his father to like her. He tried be completely nonbiased, and studied her.

She was pretty. He'd admit that. With an astonishing sheet of dark hair and sparkly dark eyes, he could see where his dad liked the looks.

But otherwise, besides the fact that she was good at cooking, Kathy wasn't any better than his mom. What made his dad leave his mom for _this_ lady?

His mom was charismatic. She laughed easily, and her eyes glowed with happiness. She was sweet, beautiful, everything. And his dad had left.

Suddenly Jorge was aware of everybody's eyes on him. He cleared his throat. "Umm…."

"Kathy was asking you," Connor said, not looking at him, "whether or not everything's ok…"

"Sure, everything's good," Jorge stumbled for words. "I guess. I _was_ a bit shocked."

_No, everything's not ok, _he thought to himself. _Nothing's ever ok with my dad. _

xxx

Carl sped through an introduction about how over that summer they would be learning to street skate and to skate vertically. He said that he knew many of them already

"Now," said Carl, "would anybody care to demonstrate a grind or a kick-flip?"

Jason looked around. Nobody was volunteering except for Patrick and some other girl he didn't know—some girl who had been throwing him hopeful glances on the bus.

He knew. He raised his hand hesitantly, and Carl's eyes rested on him. "Ok, Mr. Escalante. Let's see what you can do, ok?"

Jason grinned softly, and launched into a perfect display. He realized everybody's eyes were on him, but he didn't care. He knew who he was when he was skating.


	10. Chapter 9

"Was anybody else on the island with you?" The order was direct and hard from the red-headed man. Naslund.

"No," grunted J.J.

Naslund nodded to the man behind J.J. who promptly grasped his arm and twisted it.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

"_World peace begins at home_," –Bumper Sticker

Pretty soon, Jorge and Julie had managed to come up with a list of what their parents hated.

Kathy: (1) Whipped cream pie, (2) sushi, (3) overly emotional people, whether sentimental, depressed, or anything, (4) obnoxious people, (5) toe-nail clippings (Jorge pointed out, _who wouldn't hate that?_), (6) SCREAMO bands, (7) heavy metal, (8) the word "stupid", (9) baggy pants, (10) tight pants, (11) tight shirts, (12) baggy shirts, (13) _Star Wars_, (14) _X-Men_, (15) incredibly rude people, (16) rude noises, (17) people who spent all their time on the computer, (18) and incredibly stupid comedies.

Connor: (1) surprise parties, (2) depressed people, (3) dried starfish, (4) musicals, (5) small, yappy poodle dogs, (6) toothpaste in the sink, (7) dyed hair, which Julie had noticed, (8) anything to do with something unreal and having to do with magic, such as _Harry Potter_, which Julie had also noticed when he had refused to let her go see it in theaters, (9) annoying cartoon shows, (10) boy singers that worked alone, such as Jesse McCartney and Ryan Cabrera, (11) anything done by PIXAR, (12) re-fried beans, (13) gel pens, (14) home-made presents; Jorge had learned from experience, (15) and anything having to do with _The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants_.

"Ok," Jorge said. "I have an idea."

xxx

Jason was aware of everybody eyes staring at him as he picked up his skateboard and started heading back. He felt strangely awkward, but didn't mind that much. He'd rather have people stare at him for his skating skills than his looks.

Back at the dorm, Pat threw a shoe at him. "You're amazing, do you know that Jason?"

"Thanks," Jason said somewhat awkwardly.

"The only problem," Pat stood up and made a box with his fingers, framing Jason's face. "You are good-looking—no seriously, you're really hot, yet you don't have a girl. How is that possible?" He looked down at himself. "I mean, look at me, and I have Cazz, by far the most beautiful girl I have ever met."

Jason just stood there, not knowing how to answer. "Well," he started. "You're pretty good-looking yourself."

"But not like _you_," Pat pressed, putting his hands on Jason's shoulders. "It's like… I don't know. You could have any girl you wanted in the world, but you don't even try… well, _why_?"

Jason looked at him—into those concerned brown eyes. Pat wasn't jealous, he just wanted to help.

"That's the problem," he finally breathed out. "I want a girl who doesn't want me. I want a girl that I can't have. I want a girl who I'll have to _work_ for."

xxx

"No!" Julie yelled, staring at Jorge. "No, I'm not going to do it."

"But it will make my dad hate you!" Jorge yelped.

"Yeah, but what will you have to do?"

"I'll have to become a _Star Wars _fanatic and an _X-Men _fanatic, and start wearing either super tight clothing or super baggy clothing."

"Well you don't have to dye your HAIR!"

"Come on Julie, it's just a _little_!"

"Then WHY DON'T YOU DO IT?"

"My dad's supposed to _like_ me, and hate you, therefore leading to him hating your mom!"

About half an hour later, Jorge was waiting nervously outside a barber shop, waiting for Julie to come out.

She walked out, looking completely furious.

"God Julie," Jorge protested. "You look good."

"I _like_ my hair naturally colored, ok Jorge? LOOK!" She pointed at a shock of hot pink hair that seemed to explode from her dark black hair color surrounding it.

"No, really," Jorge said, lying through his teeth. "It looks really nice."

"I would even prefer wearing baggy clothes instead of dying my hair!" Julie yelped, pointing at Jorge. Jorge winced, glancing at his extremely baggy pants which were only held up by his belt and his baggy shirt. "Eeewww… don't lie Julie. This is disgusting."

"Ok, it is," Julie told him, after she had had a glance at his boxers. "Ok, I lied. That _is_ disgusting."

Before Jorge drove her home, they went to go buy a _Ryan Cabrera_ CD, seeing that Julie already had the _Jesse McCartney _one, and stopped to buy _The Incredibles_ because it was done by PIXAR.

**Chatroom: **

**MrMom**: hey, why am i here again?

**Crazy4Coffee**: thought maybe we should talk or something

**MadSkater101**: Ok…. Umm….

**Bass4HRU**: west, how do u manage 2 drag us in 2 everything

**Bass4HRU**: alek, my man, how are u

**MrMom**: nm

**MadSkater101**: I knew you would say that.

**MrMom**: know me 2 well

**Crazy4Coffee**: so alek, kill that girl yet?

**MrMom**: not quite… she dragged me into movie store

**MrMom**: met crazy star wars obsessed freak—jess

**MrMom**: likes my chemical romance 2

**Crazy4Coffee**: sounds like my type of girl

**Crazy4Coffee**: but i already found one

**Crazy4Coffee**: u kno that girl in phantom of opera? sarah?

**Crazy4Cofee**: (sighs) one great girl. B-e-a-utiful.

**Bass4HRU**: big comment from weston.

**MadSkater101**: What about your step-sister Jorge?

**MadSkater101**: Julie?

**Bass4HRU**: made her dye her hair pink

**Bass4HRU**: didn't like it 2 much

**Bass4HRU**: but hey—i have 2 wear baggy clothes… she has 2 do sumthin

**MrMom**: haha, jorge has 2 wear baggy cloooothesss… hahahahaha… lmfao

**Bass4HRU**: shut up

**Crazy4Coffee**: how about u, Jason

**MadSkater101**: met a real nice guy. Pat.

**MrMom**: wut kind of name is that?

**MadSkater101**: He wants to know why I don't have a girl.

**Crazy4Coffee**: what did you tell him?

**MadSkater101**: the truth

Review?


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

"_Love is what's in the room at Christmas if you stop opening presents and stop to listen."_

Alek leaned over and checked the time. 11:09. Now who in the world would that be? The answer clicked almost instantly. Bay.

His mom would be at work (he wasn't… Dolly's wasn't open on Sunday, due to the fact that Gary Smith was a devout Jew and refused to work on the Sabbath), and Nikki would be at daycare. Besides, she didn't even know how to find her way home.

He began his descent down the stairs, ignoring the ruffled mess in his hair, flattening it with his hand on the way. He opened the door, feeling sort of awkward that he was standing there in a pair of sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt.

"What do you want?" he snapped peevishly at the stocky figure. It was Bay alright.

He stopped suddenly. There was something wrong. Something definitely wrong. In those usually confident and bright eyes, there was a flickering dart of fear and fury.

"Bay? Are you ok?"

Without answering, she headed inside, pushing him off to the side.

"Bay!"

She turned around, struck him across the face, and let out a small whimper.

Alek was worried. Well, who wouldn't be?

xxx

Jason headed over to breakfast with Pat. He heard Pat suddenly suck in and looked up.

"What is it?"

He stopped and gaped.

The most beautiful girl he had ever seen was walking towards them. She had a long sheet of shimmering brown hair and flashing brown eyes. As she approached them, Jason felt his heart pounding in his chest. This girl was bad news. He could tell already. He gulped.

Pat didn't seem to understand the danger of the pretty new girl. As she got closer, Jason swallowed even harder. She could be a model, only if she hadn't had the hugest scowl on her face, and if her shirt was still black, instead of the smoky gray it had become. She sidled up and placed her arm around Jason's shoulder. He flinched.

Jason had never been one for physical touch.

The girl turned and laughed, a high, cruel sound. Jason hated her. He hated her from the start.

"Hey," she snarled viciously, leaning in towards Jason. Jason attempted to push her away.

Pat was eating this all up, he could tell. Was he the only one who could tell how shallow she was?

"I'm Becky."

"BECKY!" There was a cry from behind them, and Jason turned, only for a fist to connect with his jaw. An athletic boy with dark hair and muddy gray eyes like fish scales stood growling at him.

"You stay away from my girlfriend Escalante… you hear me?"

Jason shied away from him. Looking over at Pat, who had a bloody nose, he saw that he wasn't the only one who had been hurt.

"Oh come on Frankie," Becky said in a pitiful artificial fake voice. "I was just talking…"

Despite her protests, she was dragged away.

Jason looked at Pat. "That was weird."

xxx

West was feeling jealous. And depressed. And angry for that matter.

The guy who played Raoul, Paul, had been talking to Sarah. And he'd asked her out. Sarah had said yes.

And now West was mad.

He didn't blame her. That guy was way good-looking. Dark, long brown hair, with stunning blue eyes. He was good-looking—West would admit that. Maybe not so much as Jason was… but well… he didn't blame her.

But West was jealous.

A lot of other guys were jealous of Paul too. Everybody liked Sarah. She was beautiful, high spirited, and intense. She was also sincere.

But West had thought that he was special.

_And probably everybody else did too,_ he reminded himself.

It wasn't Paul's fault that he liked Sarah. What was not to like?

West hit himself hard across the head. "Ok, fine," he said. "I'll go visit Jason."

Then he remembered that Sarah was coming with him. It wouldn't be so bad after all.

Xxx

"Julie…" Connor stammered, trying to not show the disgust clearly written across his face.

Jorge smirked. This was going exactly the right way.

"Oh my God JULIE it's so cute!" Kathy was exclaiming, while Connor looked at her in horror.

"I've been trying to get her to do something to her hair for about a year now," Kathy beamed. "Jorge, did you make her do this?"

Jorge grinned sheepishly as Kathy's smile slowly faded away as she glanced at his attire.

"Why Jorge, don't you look… erm… nice…" she slowly muttered.

Jorge and Julie headed up the stairs, Julie singing Jesse McCartney's _Beautiful Soul _at the top of her lungs. Jorge liked the way his dad flinched. Jorge headed into his room, put the _My Chemical Romance _CD in the stereo, tribute to his father, and turned the volume as loud as he could. He glanced out his door and saw Kath cower away.

Julie came into his room. He hugged her. This was turning out exactly the way they wanted.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

"_Failure is simply the opportunity to begin again, this time more intelligently." _-Henry Ford

Alek glanced nervously over his shoulder where Bay was sitting at his table. She was trembling and pale.

"Are you ok?" he asked her worriedly. Well, she was a millionaire's daughter. He didn't want to get in any trouble.

She breathed in and out, with loud gasps.

"Hey," Alek gently patted her hand. "You ok?"

She looked up at him, and he was shocked to see her eyes glistening with tears. Alek looked away. Tears scared him.

There was silence, and then Bay whispered, "I'm sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry about?" Alek asked.

"I had a schizophrenic attack," she said, looking up at him. "Sometimes I think the whole world is after me… then, I think I caused someone to hurt. I also have borderline OCD too. It's obsessive compulsive disorder. I'm scared for those I care about. That's why I came here. I wanted to make sure I hadn't hurt you."

Alek sat down next to her. "Tell me about it. Maybe I can help."

She was trying to calm down, and suddenly she reached over and gripped his hand tightly. Alek squeezed hers to, trying to comfort her.

"I have three sides… sort of, in a way I guess to my schizophrenia. There's the side when I was first five… when I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Um… there's me now… that's one side. And there's one when I turn fifteen this August. August 22, actually. When I'm fifteen… I don't want to become that person Alek… I become depressed and angry… and…" her voice cracked in pain. "I… don't like people… I hate life… I hate… everybody, including myself. I don't think I can live like that Alek… I don't know what I'll do when I get there…"

Alek patted her shoulder awkwardly, feeling a cold grasp inside himself. How could he help?

"I've been to a lot of psychologists," Bay continued. "But they can't help… not really. My OCD sometimes does weird things… like I can tell you that there are exactly 167 houses in this neighborhood, and 54 of them have brick roofing. I don't count or anything… I just know… um… you have 1,548 eyelashes exactly. And sometimes I'm afraid to… touch anybody… I think I've hurt somebody… I think I've killed somebody. On the news, when I see like a car crash or something… I think I caused it… I think I messed up… and those people had to suffer for me…"

Alek hugged her, feeling her tears staining the jacket. "It's going to be ok Bay, don't give up."

He barely heard her reply as she choked out, "I just want to be normal."

xxx

Jorge was throwing disgusted looks at Julie as Connor gripped the steering wheel of his Mercedes until his knuckles turned white. Kathy was looking at her reflection in a mirror and applying lipstick.

They were going to try on their clothes for the wedding, Julie had told him. Jorge now tried to act disinterested as he tapped his fingers on the window and attempted to ignore the pounding of his heart in his chest. He really didn't want his dad to get married.

They reached the bridal shop where Kathy tried on a strapless white dress. It was pretty, Jorge would admit that. Kathy looked beautiful in it. He tried to ignore that fact, but it kept boring holes into his mind. He (and Julie) watched in agony as Connor and Kathy kissed.

Julie tried on her dress, and Jorge thought she looked nice, despite the fact that there was a huge scowl on her face. It was red, and Jorge thought she looked pretty good in red.

Next Jorge and Connor were fitted. Connor looked… different, Jorge thought. There he was in his snazzy suit tux thing… Jorge didn't know exactly how to explain it, but he felt a pain in his chest. _I just want you back Dad, _he thought. _I just need you back._

When Jorge tried on his suit, he immediately knew something was wrong. It was baggy, making him look like a bum from the streets. It didn't fit his tall and skinny frame.

A worried looking lady with frizzy gray hair said that she would fix it. She took his measurements, and told them to come back in a week.

Jorge stumbled back to the Mercedes in an extremely bad mood.

However, it was improved when Julie insisted that they watched _Harry Potter. _Connor's forehead creased and his eyebrows met in the center. He spent the whole moving complaining about how artificial the whole plot line was. His mood was improved even more when Connor brought out whipped cream pie, where Kathy had to leave the room because she was "nauseous." Connor made her even more moody by watching two full episodes of _Star Wars._

xxx

West told Taty he was leaving for the day, and she nodded. The kids were allowed one day off a week, to do whatever they wanted. West and Sarah crawled into the back seat of Bren's BMW, while Bren concentrated on the road ahead of her.

"So," West asked casually, "do you like Paul?"

"Paul's a sweet guy," Sarah answered.

West felt himself grimace, but tried to get a hold over his emotions.

_Don't be jealous,_ he reminded himself. _It makes you look bad._

He was starting to hate himself a little bit. Luckily, he didn't have that much time to wallow in self-pity because Bren had arrived at Jason's camp.

"Hey, follow me," he told Bren and Sarah. He signed in the guest book and shadowed by Bren and Sarah as they reached Room 27. He knocked, and a boy with reddish hair answered.

His eyes widened at the sight of the two girls and he shook his head, as if trying to remember that he had a girlfriend. West assumed that this was Pat.

"Hey. You're Pat right? I'm looking for Jason?"

Pat opened the door more wide and gestured inside. "I think he's in there."

West walked in and saw a bunch of boxers, Axe, and dirty shirts lying around on the floor. Quickly, he turned around and pushed Sarah and Bren out.

"You just stay right there, ok? I'll get Jason and bring him out."

They smiled knowingly, and West felt himself blush.

He went back in the room and saw Jason sitting casually in a chair. If West hadn't known him, he'd probably think that Jason was modeling for Abercrombie and Fitch or something.

"West." Jason said this calmly, but there was no mistaking the excitement in his voice.

"Hey Jason," West said, pulling him up from the chair. "I told you I'd come to visit, didn't I? Come outside, there's some girls I want you to meet." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "One's Sarah."

"The b-e-a-utiful one?" Jason asked with a smile.

West nodded, feeling his cheeks flame. Jason followed him out the door, closing it on a disappointed looking Pat.

xxx

Jason was feeling slightly uncomfortable as he met West's friends. They were nice of course, (West didn't befriend anybody who wasn't nice), but he could see that they were interested in him (in a way he didn't want them to be).

Bren was trying to catch his gaze, but instead of meeting her eyes, he suddenly found the carpeted floor extremely interesting.

Jason could see, however, why West was attracted to Sarah. She was beautiful and outgoing, (like him), bright and energetic, (also like West), and genuine (West's most valued trait in a girl).

Jason looked over at West, who was talking amiably to Sarah, as if Jason didn't exist. Jason didn't blame him. West was in his own world.

Suddenly, Jason wanted to push himself in. He wanted to exist. He wanted to do something. He wanted to take up space, not just be a good-looking figure just standing there.

Only he didn't know how.

Somebody saved him. Only it was a person he didn't particularly care for.

"Jason!" cried Becky, seeming to appear out of nowhere. She wrapped her arms around him, and Jason had the vague sensation that he was drowning.

"Who's this? You didn't tell me your friends were coming to see you," she said, pulling his head towards her. "I want to know everything, right now."

West looked at Becky, shocked by her radiating beauty, as everybody was. Then he seemed to get a hold of himself. Grinning at Jason, he arched an eyebrow.

In that one movement, he seemed to convey everything to Jason.

_So, you picked yourself up a girl, didn't you? _

Jason looked back at him in fear. _No, I didn't actually. I don't even like this girl. She likes me. SHE LIKES ME! _

West shook his head, the way a father did when his child was finally growing up. He shot a wicked look at Jason, who tried to stumble for words.

"This is Becky. She's… um…"

"I'm his girlfriend." Becky answered for him.

West arched another eyebrow. _So, trying to cover it up Jason? Why'd you hide it? She's b-e-a-utiful. _

Jason shot a frantic look at West. _NO! No! You're getting it all wrong. I HATE this girl. _

West glanced at him. _Yeah. Right. _

Jason found his voice. "This is Becky. She's _not_ my girlfriend. In fact, I don't even know her. Well not really. Well, I sort of do. Wait… just never mind." Jason sort of hated himself right now.

Becky glared at him and walked away angrily, while Jason struggled to explain.

"Um… I'm sorry…"

West grinned. "It's all good pal."

Thanks for the reviews.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13:

"_You alone can make my song take flight; it's over now the music of the night." _–_Phantom of the Opera _

_Jorge,_

_This better get to you on time because I'm using that weird fast service thing. I hope you're doing ok. And you know that weird snot looking spot on the jacket. Jorge, I swear, that wasn't me. That was Bay. She was having a skizofrenic—ok, I know I can't spell—attack and also OCD or whatever that it. I'm sort of afraid for her... yeah, I know you think I have a soft spot for her now, but I swear I don't. She's just really scary._

_Anyway, I hope the jacket brings you luck with Julie and destroying the family or whatever you're trying to do. Don't hurt them too bad. Yeah, that's it. The jacket hasn't brought me too much luck, but that's just me. Maybe it'll be better for you._

_Alek_

Jorge opened the package that arrived with him with such flourish that Julie's mouth dropped open. This was obviously a side of Jorge she hadn't seen. For a second, Jorge felt like jumping up and down like a little girl who got the Barbie doll she had wanted. However, he restrained himself.

Julie wanted to know what it was, and eagerly Jorge began an explanation. For a second, it looked like Julie was going to say something, but Jorge dismissed it and continued babbling about his friends.

Jorge walked to his room and flattened out the jacket on his bed (by sitting on it a couple of times). Then, carefully, he slipped it on. He hurried downstairs to show Julie, but realized she wasn't there. Only his father was.

"Hey," he said, hating to ask his dad for an answer, even though it was an obvious question. "Where's Julie?"

"She just left," his dad said in a strained voice Jorge hadn't heard him use since two days before he had left Jorge and his mom.

"To…" Jorge waited for a reply.

"Julie hasn't told you about her dad yet, has she?" his dad continued in the same tired voice.

"No." Jorge felt as though he should sit down. He pulled out a chair and sat down next to his dad, waiting for the rest of the story.

Connor nervously ran his hands through his hair, which didn't take too long, seeing that he had almost none.

"Um… Julie… um… Jorge, Julie's dad is a severe alcoholic and he was... addicted to drugs. Julie and Kathy go to visit him about once a month and… well, Julie doesn't really like to talk about it."

"Yeah, nobody would want to talk about anything to you," Jorge muttered under his breath.

Connor didn't seem to hear him. "He used to hurt her, hit her… all the time."

Jorge felt a pang of pain through his side. No wonder why Julie always looked so scared and sad every time Connor looked at her.

It amazed him though. His father had left him, and he hated him. Julie's father had beaten her, and she was still open to love. She was still willing to visit him. She still _cared_ about him.

This fact made Jorge feel small, uncaring, and insignificant. How could someone be that open? How could he be so resentful? Why was he so angry? Then he bristled.

Feeling sorry for Julie made him feel sorry for Kathy. And he didn't want to feel sorry for Kathy. Kathy deserved all she got coming for her. If she hadn't gotten engaged with Connor, there would still be a chance. _There would still be a chance._

But in his heart, Jorge knew there never was a chance. There hadn't been a chance since his dad had turned his back and left. It was too late for promises now. He was never coming back.

Jorge tried to hide it, but he couldn't. Inside, he was still that lonely eleven-year-old, standing by the window and watching as the rain ran down the pane—waiting… waiting for his daddy to come home.

xxx

West walked angrily into his room and went moodily into the tiny bathroom that was supplied for each dorm. He pulled out his razor and coated his face with shaving cream, preparing to shave, which he really needed to do. (He'd skipped about two days).

Mad looked up. "Hey, what's wrong West?"

"Nothing," grumbled West. He'd seen Sarah with Paul again—Paul had asked her out. _Again. _

But that wasn't the worst of it. Paul had _kissed_ her. West had seen it.

If only Sarah knew how he felt about her. Only he couldn't tell her. He couldn't.

West had always been good at expressing his feelings. Not as well as Jorge, but a whole lot better than Jason and Alek.

But when he was with Sarah, he felt himself at loss for words. She seemed so carefree, so beautiful. So light and airy and dizzy (in a good way).

Mad got up and stood at the door, which lay ajar. West could feel Mad studying the back of his head as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

"It's girl trouble, isn't it?" he asked in his deep voice. "Sarah, right?"

West looked over his shoulder, wiping a bunch of shaving cream onto his shirt as he did. "It's nothing."

"You like her. I can tell," Mad continued, looking back down at his sketchbook which he held in his hand. He continued his sketch of a bird. "And she likes Paul, right?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Don't hide your feelings. Just go tell her."

"How would you know?" West almost shouted. His emotions were building up and he felt like he was going to explode. He flung shaving cream all over Mad's face as he felt his razor swipe through the air.

"Trust me on this one," Mad said, not even flinching at the shaving cream which freckled his face. He calmly reached a finger up and wiped a spot of cream off. He stared at West straight in the eyes. "Trust me."

xxx

Jason was in the middle of swapping his toast for Pat's scrambled eggs when he felt someone pound his shoulder. Hard.

"What?" he said, turning around, afraid that it was Becky.

It wasn't. It was Frankie.

"Oh God," he muttered under his breath.

"Es-cah-lahn-tay," Frankie said, stressing every syllable of Jason's last name, "I heard you were talking to my girl _again._"

"I was not," Jason protested. "She was talking to me."

"Shut up," Frankie muttered, hitting Jason's back hard. "That's what they all say."

"I'm not lying," Jason yelped. "I'm telling the truth. Why would I lie about something like this?"

"Let's think," Frankie said sarcastically, resting his chin on one hand as he leaned on the table. "Maybe because she's beautiful. Maybe because she's cute. Huh? Did you ever think of that?"

Before Jason could say anything, (or Pat could say anything in Jason's defense), Frankie continued. "I've had this happen so many times. And I'm not letting anyone else get away with it. Ok, Escalante?"

"Fine," muttered Jason. "I didn't want to talk to her in the first place."

"I'm watching you Escalante," Frankie warned. "I'm watching you."

_West,_

_I'm stupid for even hoping that you'll believe me. Honestly, I promise, I had nothing to do with that girl—Becky. Yeah, she already has a boyfriend. And no, it's not me. It's some weird guy named Frankie. He already gave me a huge bruise on my chin._

_No, I'm not hiding anything from you. Come on West, you know I have better things to do than hide that stuff from you. Like skate maybe?_

_I guess you met Pat. He's pretty nice, isn't he? Yeah, I guess so._

_Anyway, about Sarah. I can see why you like her. She doesn't seem to like you that way though… she thinks you're just a friend, in my opinion._

_That Bren though. I think she does like you, West. Just the way she looks at you. Ok, fine, I admit she was looking at me most of the time. But she likes you. I can tell._

_Yeah, I know. You're telling me to shut up. Ok, I will. Talked to Alek yesterday. Seems like he likes that Bay girl better. Oh yeah… Jorge called. Turns out that Julie's dad used to hit her. He feels bad now… sort of._

_Yeah… that's about it. Hope this gets to you on time._

_Jason_

xxx

Alek pulled off his apron and stuffed it through his car window. He headed over to the movie rental shop, where he promised that he'd meet Bay.

Ever since her schizophrenia attack, Alek had felt overprotective towards the girl. He couldn't help it. Well, he didn't want her to get hurt or anything.

She was only fourteen, and only now had Alek realized the age difference. She was so much more vulnerable and easily hurt.

He found her with Jess again—they were talking amiably about an actor that Alek had never even heard of before. Jacob Smith or something. He had supposedly been in _Cheaper by the Dozen_—a movie that Alek hadn't even bothered to watch.

Bay headed off to get a Coke from a 7 Eleven next door, leaving Alek with Jess. She looked at him through her rimless glasses.

"Hey Alek," she said.

"Hey," he answered, shifting his feet back and forth. This was awkward. He pretended to be looking at a movie on the shelf.

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Is there something wrong with Bay? She just seems sort of… different."

Alek was tempted to say, "Different? Look who's talking," but he swallowed up his comments and just glanced at her warily. "She's schizophrenic. And she has OCD."

"Oh. So I guess you're her friend?"

"Not really. I just let her hang around with me… sort of because I feel sorry for her."

"Oh. Yeah, ok."

But as Alek thought to himself, was it just because he felt sorry for her? Or did he actually care about her? Was she growing on him?

As Alek tried to push these thoughts out of his mind, one remained. His life was going to get a lot harder than it had been before.

Review?


	15. Chapter 14

Thank you BlackoutHart for your constant dedication. And yes, I would like to talk to your Slade-ish brothers.

Chapter 14:

"_A little **nonsense** now and then is relished by the wisest men."_- Roald Dahl

"MCARTHUR!" shouted Taty.

West looked over at her. "What?"

"YOU ARE DEJECTED, UNDERSTAND? You're the PHANTOM and Christine loves RAOUL not you! Now act sad! You're not conveying your emotions to the audience!"

Sarah threw a look at West. _Ignore her_.

West threw one back. _Will do._

"Kaplan!" Taty continued to roar, "Start again!"

Sarah rolled her eyes and smiled quickly at West. Then she looked over at Paul. He stood there.

West watched as she tapped his shoulder. West looked at Paul. "I think it's time for you to start."

"Oh, right," Paul said hurriedly. He stood straight up next to Sarah, and put on a convincing face of concern.

_No more talk of darkness, _

_Forget these wide eyed fears. _

_I'm here, nothing can harm you… _

_My words will warm and calm you. _

_Let me be your shelter, _

_Let daylight dry your tears _

_I'm here, right her beside you _

_To guard you and to guide you… _

Sarah looked at him with her huge clear eyes and West felt like someone had punched him.

He had to tell her… now.

They finished off with:

_Love me -  
that's all I ask  
of you… _

And then they kissed. Sarah kissed Paul this time. West felt like dying. Only it was his turn next, and he knew exactly how the poor phantom felt.

_I gave you my music…  
made your song take wing…  
and now, how you've  
repaid me:  
denied me  
and betrayed me…  
He was bound to love you  
when he heard you sing…_

He had to tell her. Soon. Now. It didn't matter, but she had to know.

"Perfect!" Taty yelped. "You're amazing West! You captured the emotions perfectly! I told you it was in you!"

I didn't want to know it was in me… he thought. I could have gone on without knowing it. I love her.

One thought kept on coming back in his mind. I even thought I had a chance.

Practice was over, but West didn't seem to realize this until almost everybody was gone. Everything seemed hazy and rushed, like a dream, only this time he wasn't in it.

He managed to pull himself together and got off the stage, following Sarah's blonde head.

He tapped her on the shoulder. "Sarah," he started. "I need to tell you something."

xxx

"Hey," Alek said, quickly waving at Bay, who was sitting at his counter. He was used to having her around now; Mrs. Murray, Alek's mother, had hired Bay as a baby-sitter, "she's such a cute little girl!"

Not as if Bay needed the money or anything. Her dad was the millionaire. But she seemed to need something to do—and money wasn't going to buy it.

It didn't take Alek too long to realize what it was. Friendship, love. Bay needed friends. She needed to be loved. It seemed almost ironic to Alek, (whose family was sort of dirt-poor), that although Bay seemed to have everything, he had more than she did.

Mr. Lohemann never spent any time with her, while Alek, his mother, and Nikki spent a whole lot of their time together. Alek had always taken it for granted, seeing that his mother always said, "Family comes first."

Sure, sometimes he wished they had a little more money, but Mr. Murray already worked hard enough, and Alek didn't want to be ungrateful. He realized that he did love spending time with his family more.

He wanted more family time, and he realized that was the reason he had even signed up at the ice cream shop in the first place.

Bay was making Nikki an ice cream sundae, which she promptly grabbed and threw at Bay's face. Alek tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help it, and pretty soon he was pounding his fist on the table in laughter.

Bay turned around and dropped the rest of the ice cream from the container on Alek's head, and he didn't think it was so funny anymore. Pretty soon, they were all throwing food around, (Nikki included), until Mrs. Murray came in and started screaming at them. She set them all to picking up stuff, (even Bay: "I don't care if you're the daughter of a millionaire! You caused this mess!"). Alek threw a quick smile at Bay, and she smiled back.

She's not bad, he thought. She's not bad at all.

xxx

Jorge got out of bed and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He flexed in the mirror, imagining what his friends would think.

Jason would laugh, Alek would challenge him, flexing too, and West would call him, "b-e-a-utiful."

Jorge pulled on the traveling jacket and headed down the stairs. Julie was back, and Jorge hadn't asked her about her dad. She's probably be too nervous to talk about it. And sad for that matter.

"Hey Jorge," Connor said, a silly, floppy looking grin on his face, "I'm taking Julie to her hockey game. Do you want to come?"

Jorge felt a pang of sadness. He played hockey, and his dad had never taken him. Why was he taking someone he barely knew? Julie threw Jorge a sympathetic but pleading look and glanced at Connor with disgust. I want you there, her eyes seemed to say. Please Jorge.

"I guess," he muttered. He'd go for Julie's sake. Not for Connor's. For Julie's.

It was awkward in the car. Extremely quiet, and Jorge hugged the jacket closer to him. Connor looked like he was going to ask him what it was about, but he decided not to, after the angry glance Jorge threw at him.

They finally reached their destination—some rink, where Julie climbed out of the car, followed by Jorge, who was followed by Connor.

Julie got all her equipment on, and climbed into the rink, deftly skating away. She was good, Jorge noticed. It was sort of surprising. Julie didn't actually look like the person built for hockey. She was stocky, but she had this weird wiry way of moving… a sort of weird rippling, skating-looking style, even off the ice.

Jorge turned to Connor to ask what position Julie played, but it was almost obvious as she reached the goal. Goalie.

He watched as the other team advanced, and Julie managed to deflect all of the attempted shots. She was good.

A man sitting on the bench next to Connor turned and asked, "Which one's yours?"

Connor looked even more nervous than usual. He paused, and finally said, "Julie. The goalie."

The guy looked at Connor. "She's a great player."

Connor shrugged, as if embarrassed to show too much about how proud he was. The exact portrait of a parent. "Thanks."

Jorge felt hiding in a corner and never coming out. He hated this. He hated being ignored more than anything else. He felt like he didn't exist, and he didn't want that. He was tired of it. He didn't want that anymore.

Luckily, he and Julie were still carrying out their little plan to give him exactly what he wanted. Because Jorge always got exactly what he wanted.

xxx

Jason was avoiding Becky at all costs. The bad thing was that she kept on appearing out of nowhere. It was actually extremely freaky.

He was leaving breakfast, and she would jump out of nowhere. He would come back from the rink with his skateboard, and there she was in the doorway of the building. He'd be walking with Pat, and she'd come out from behind a wall.

Then one day, he walked out of the boys' room, and she was standing there as if minding her own business.

That's when he started to think she was a stalker.

"Would you please just leave me alone?" he asked her one day. Straightforward, that was the only way Jason knew how to do things. Either straight out, or hiding it—where no one took him seriously.

"Why?" she asked in that dangerous tone of hers. "I think I really like you Jason."

"I don't really… I don't really…" Jason hated himself for being such a coward, but he couldn't tell her that he hated her, could he?

"You're going out with Frankie," he finished lamely.

"Well, I like having more than one guy," she said simply. "And you're one of the ones I like."

And before he knew what she was doing, she had grabbed him and pressed her lips hard against his. He tried to push her away, but was afraid to hurt her.

She continued to kiss him until she was suddenly pulled away, and all Jason saw was a fist.

"Escalante. You're going to pay," muttered an angry Frankie, dragging his protesting girlfriend away.

Great. Now he was going to die.

_Dear Jason,_

_Here's the jacket. I hope you're not dead yet._

_West told me about Becky. Your friend, right? Yeah, sure._

_Well, nothing's happened much except for my dad being stupid and Kathy being stupid and Julie's friends laughing at me and calling me cute. Don't worry. I'm not interested in them._

_So, I bet you'll do a great job with this jacket… better than I did at least. Don't say no, I know you are._

_Yeah. That's it. Call me if you need anything._

_Love you,_

_Jorgie_

_Review?_


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15:

"Sometimes you should think about what's _really_ important in life." –Bay Lohemann

Jason was feeling good. He hadn't seen Becky all day long, he'd managed to pull off a 360 flip and a heel flip, and he'd just gotten a call from the front office of camp. The jacket had arrived.

Jason brought the package back to his room. He set it on the bed like it was a treasure—well, it _was_, he reminded himself.

Then, since Pat was staring at him from the other bed, he ripped the brown packaging off and pulled out the jacket. He read the note from Jorge, laughed, and examined the green jacket.

West had scrawled, "Sarah! Sarah! Sarah!" on a sleeve. Alek had scribbled, "Taking care of Bay" and on one pocket was the name "Nikki" looking like Nikki had done it herself, which Jason reminded himself probably was the case. Jorge had written, "Julie and Kathy and Connor" and girlish writing filled the collar reading, "Julie says 'hi'."

Then, Jason pulled on the jacket, almost feeling like his friends were there with him—supporting everything he did.

Pat looked up from a _Seventeen_ magazine he was flipping through. He told Jason that he wanted to get Cazz something. In Jason's opinion, it was sort of weird that he stole it from her in the first place.

"Jason," he said, looking hard at the teen. "That jacket makes you look _good_." He flashed Jason an evil grin.

Jason felt himself blush. "Thanks."

"Jason," crooned Patrick in a sing-song voice. "Is Jason looking for a _girl?_" He pulled up the _Seventeen_ magazine, pushing the face of the girl—who happened to be Jamie Lynn Spears—up at Jason.

Jason's ears turned red. "No." He explained the significance of the jacket to Pat, who looked a little let down after.

"But it is good luck, isn't it?" pressed Pat. "Maybe it _will_ help you find a girl."

Jason felt like screaming at the whole world. HE DIDN'T WANT A GIRL! HE WANTED TO SKATE! That was all.

But Jason wasn't that person. He was tired of not being able to stand up for himself—to tell others that they were wrong. He didn't want people to decide who he was on the spot, but what was there to discover.

"No," he trailed off weakly.

Pat grinned, arching an eyebrow and reminding Jason of West. West and Pat would get along just fine if they just talked to each other for about two minutes. "Right, Jason. Right."

Jason shrugged. He didn't want this. He didn't need this. He didn't have to listen to it.

He grabbed his Enjoi, pulled on the jacket, and stuffed his feet into his Emericas. He had to get out of here.

xxx

"Sarah," West stopped, trying to get his voice to stop cracking. "I… I need to tell you something."

Sarah turned and looked at him with a semi-interested look on her face. "Yeah?"

"I like you," West said, but nothing came out.

"Excuse me?"

"I really…" West stumbled for words. "I really like you… you're kind and… I don't know… inspiring. I like you… I like you more than a friend."

Sarah glanced at him, her eyes looking genuinely sorry. "I'm really sorry, West. I didn't know… I'm going out with Paul right now."

He should have known.

If West had been Jorge, he would have puked. If he'd been Alek, he'd shrug it off. If he'd been Jason, he wouldn't have gotten into this mess in the first place.

But West wasn't his friends.

He was him.

And all he could feel was pain crashing down on him. Rejection. He'd rejected so many girls, and now he knew what it felt like.

It was at times like these where he needed his dad. It was at times like these where he wanted and missed his dad more than ever. It was times like these when turning to his friends and his mom and his sister wasn't enough.

Yet his dad wasn't here.

He turned and ran.

xxx

"Hey, Jorge?" came a quiet voice.

Jorge looked up from the paper he was scribbling furiously on. "Yeah, Julie?"

"I was just wondering…" she broke off, looking down at the floor. "Never mind, it's nothing."

Jorge looked up, starting to be interested. "What is it?"

"I have to go visit my dad today—he's not doing so well. I don't want to ask Mom because she's going through enough right now, planning for the wedding and everything, and your dad… well… would _you_ take me?"

Jorge was a bit stunned. All this time he'd been here with Julie—he'd never really considered her more than just a friend, but now he was starting to feel like something more. Something like a _brother._

Julie bit her bottom lip and looked worried, pushing back her strip of pink hair. Something desperate was prominent in her eyes, and Jorge knew he couldn't say no.

"Yeah, I can," he said, looking at her. "I can."

xxx

"You're really lucky," said Bay, glancing over at Alek. "You've got a great family."

"Yeah, I guess," Alek said, looking up at Bay. They were sitting in his room, and Bay was picking at a toenail while he was writing a letter to Jason.

"No, I'm _serious,_" pressed Bay, as if trying to get him to truly understand. "They love you… it's more than _my_ parents have ever done."

"Your parents love you," Alek protested weakly. "They…"

"Well, they sure don't show it," Bay said. "I mean, just because they _buy_ me everything and I get everything I want basically… it's not really what I want." She stopped sadly. "It's not _really_ what I want. I guess money can't buy everything." She paused again. "I hate money."

Alek couldn't help but laugh. "Well, you'd sure love it if you didn't have any. Look at me, working at Dolly's for extra stuff for college." Sometimes he felt dirt-poor when Bay was in the room—her room was almost three times as big as his. His was as big as her closet.

"But you're happy," Bay said. "You're normal, you can have a normal life. You still have your future… mine's already planned out for me—I'll take over Dad's business. Well, that _is _if I last that long…"

"What do you mean?" Alek asked sharply. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not going to make it, Alek," Bay said, glancing at him sadly as she pulled back a wisp of her dark hair. "I don't think I can. My schizophrenia's getting to me. Bad. Some days I know who I am, and some days I don't. And I'm almost fifteen—the age where everything will mess up and I won't know who I am all the time… I won't know who I am anymore. I guess I'll lose myself. I don't want to hate life. I've thought about ending it right there… August 22…"

"You can stop it," Alek told her, getting up from his chair and walking over to her. "You can stop it, Bay, because you know you don't want that to happen. You can be strong and fight it." He draped his arm over her shoulder. "Don't give up on me now, Bay. You can do it. I believe in you."

"How can you believe in me?" asked Bay, her eyes filling with tears. "If I can't even believe in myself?"

xxx

Jorge parked and pulled his keys out of the ignition.

"Hey," he said gently, putting his hand on Julie's. "You ok?"

She was shaking—looking rather scared. "Yeah, I guess."

There was an awkward silence.

"He used to beat me, you know," Julie said quietly.

"What?" Jorge then realized she was talking about her father. Then he flushed guiltily. "Yeah… I know… my dad told me…"

"It hurt so much, Jorge, and I wanted to know why. I just wanted always to know…" Julie's voice broke in pain, and she glanced at him, her tears matting her eyelashes together. "I just wanted to know why he… why he never _wanted_ me…"

Jorge was speechless. This is what he had wanted to say to Connor all these years, but he'd never had the courage to.

"Why wasn't I _good_ enough?" Julie wanted to know. "Was there something wrong with me? Mom tells me it's not my fault… but… I just don't know, Jorge. I just don't know…"

Jorge pulled her close to him and hugged her, surprised at how protective he felt. Like a brother, he realized.

"It's not your fault, Julie. It's really not. That's what I've always wanted to know about my own dad… what was _wrong_ with me… but it wasn't my fault… it's not _your _fault. There's just something wrong with people, I guess. They always want something more… something better."

"Ok," breathed Julie softly, wiping a tear from her eye with her finger. She steadied her voice. "I think I'm ok. Thanks Jorge."

"No problem," Jorge said, feeling about ready to cry himself.

"I'm ready… I can go in now," Julie said. "I can do it."

She could do it, Jorge understood. He just wanted to know if he would ever be able to.

Review?


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16:

"How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world_." –William Shakespeare _

Jorge waited impatiently in the car, drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Julie had gone in by herself. He'd offered to go with her, but she'd refused.

She was out now, her stocky figure eyes down at the ground. She glanced up briefly, and Jorge could see that her eyes were full of tears.

He stopped his drumming and waited silently as she opened the car door and sat in the seat, breathing deeply. Silently, he put his keys into the ignition and started heading back.

It was the most awkward car ride he'd ever been in. He kept his eyes on the road and tried to ignore the muffled sniffs of the girl next to him. He glanced over at her once when he paused at a red light and just saw tears spilling out of her eyes as she hurried wiped them away with the sleeve of her sweater.

He didn't say anything. If she wanted to talk, she'd talk to him. He didn't need to press her.

She did.

"Hey Jorge?" Her voice came out in a broken gasp, and she tried to hide the sound of tears in her voice. It didn't work, of course.

"Yeah?" He pretended nothing was happening. Nothing at all.

"Why?"

Jorge sat staring out at the distance ahead of him. Why? She was right. Why? Why did her dad treat her like that? Why did Connor head off? Why was Connor getting married to her mom when they both knew that Kathy deserved so much better? Why was Julie suffering? Why was he suffering?

Jorge looked at her, his eyes softening when he saw the sad look on her face and felt as though his heart was breaking. "I don't know, Julie. I don't know…"

He didn't know if he'd ever know.

xxx

Jason ran out, holding his Enjoi under his arm. He walked out to the ramps and crashed into a person who just happened to be standing in the middle of the doorway. Frankie. It figured.

"_Escalante_," Frankie muttered in a low hiss. "You're about to pay."

"I already told you," Jason protested weakly. "I had nothing to do with it. Becky kissed me, I did _not_ kiss her!" He realized how stupid he sounded. Why couldn't he sound convincing?

Frankie grabbed him by the jacket's collar and pulled him outside. Jason punched him in the stomach, but Frankie didn't even break in his pace. He had abs of rocks.

Jason tried to yell out for help, but Frankie, as if expecting, hurriedly stuffed a dirty rag into his mouth. He pulled him out to behind the building where nobody could see them and dropped Jason on the ground.

Jason spat out the rag. "Dude, Frankie. This isn't funny."

"Whoever said anything was funny?" Frankie wanted to know. He held up a gleaming metal baseball bat and grinned evilly. It was only then that Jason realized that it wasn't funny. It wasn't funny at all.

xxx

Jorge groggily pulled down the covers on his bed. He heard some noises from Julie's room. Stumbling out of bed, he pushed back his hair and scratched the back of his neck. He rubbed his eyes and headed over to Julie's room. It didn't take long. They were conjoined by a bathroom anyway.

He opened her door and looked in. Kathy and Connor were yelling at each other and Julie was sitting up in bed, her eyes tear-filled again.

"WHY WON'T SHE OPEN UP TO ME? I'M JUST TRYING TO BE A GOOD FATHER!" Connor was roaring.

"SHE'S SCARED, OK, CONNOR? YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND THAT? ROBERT USED TO _HIT _HER! SHE'S AFRAID OF MEN, OK?" Kathy yelled back. She glanced at Julie who looked absolutely terrified and screamed, "LEAVE HER ALONE!"

"HOW CAN WE LIVE LIKE THIS IF I CAN'T TALK TO YOUR DAUGHTER? SHE'S A COMPLETELY SPOILED BRAT! I WANT TO BE GOOD SO I DON'T MESS UP LIKE BEFORE!"

"YOU SHOULD TALK TO YOUR OWN SON, CONNOR! DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME HOW TO RAISE MY CHILD BEFORE YOU LOOK AT YOUR OWN!"

"I CAN START OVER WITH JULIE! THAT'S WHAT I WANT! IT'S TOO LATE FOR JORGE! I WANT TO BE A GOOD FATHER, KATHY! I WANT TO!"

As Jorge stood there, a helpless rage took over him. Before he knew what he was doing, he was screaming along with them—Connor and Kathy looked shocked. They hadn't even known he was there.

"HOW CAN YOU BE A FATHER TO ANOTHER CHILD WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN BE A FATHER TO YOUR OWN? HOW CAN YOU BE A DAD TO SOMEONE WHEN YOU DIDN'T EVEN TO YOUR OWN SON? HOW CAN YOU TAKE JULIE TO ALL HER HOCKEY GAMES WHEN YOU NEVER EVEN WENT TO ONE OF MINE?" Jorge felt like he was pouring out his soul, all the hidden feelings he'd kept locked up inside of him all this time. He needed to let everything out, get everything out—he couldn't keep his feelings to himself any longer. "HOW CAN YOU GET TO KNOW ALL HER FRIENDS WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN NAME ONE OF MINE?"

"I _can_ name you friends," spat Connor in a dangerously low hiss. "William, Alex, and Jo-"

"WESTON! ALEK! JASON!" shouted Jorge. "WHAT KIND OF FATHER ARE YOU? YOU'LL NEVER BE A FATHER! EVEN _KATHY _COULD HAVE SAID THAT! I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU'RE EVEN BOTHERING-"

In one solid movement, Connor crossed the floor and slapped Jorge as hard as he could across the face. The impact of the blow caused Jorge to crash against the door and crumple to the ground.

As Connor paled and he looked regretfully at his hand, Jorge stood up, his eyes filling with tears and anger. Without looking back at his dad, he ran into his room and grabbed up all his clothes which lay sprawled around the room, stuffing them into his suitcase. He zipped it up and grabbed the handle, running as fast as he could down the stairs despite Kathy's cries and Connor's voice yelling, "OH MY GOD JORGE, I'M SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN IT!"

He ran outside into the driveway and grabbed his father's keys out of his pocket which he had forgotten to put back after driving Julie earlier that day. He got into the car after stuffing his suitcase into the trunk, and was about to leave, but there was a commotion from the front door and a figure came stumbling out. Jorge was about to leave, but the figure waved its hands and yelled, "Stop! Stop!"

Jorge stopped. Julie, breathing deeply, ran over to the passenger side and threw a backpack into the backseat.

"I've been thinking about running away for awhile," she panted, answering Jorge's puzzled look.

Jorge nodded, and stuffed his keys into the ignition, not noticing that tears were running down his face and dampening his shirt. Julie didn't say anything—it was a rather silent ride.

When they reached their destination, Jorge stopped the car and hurriedly wiped away the tears from his cheek. Julie looked at him. "The airport?"

"Yeah," Jorge told her.

"Where are we going?" Julie wanted to know.

Jorge thought it over. At first he thought they'd go to Connecticut so he could see Alek and his mom. Then he thought harder. He didn't want to go back to his mom and see the disappointment in his mom's face. She'd wanted so much for Connor and Jorge to have some real father-son time. Yeah right.

He glanced at Julie who was standing there sort of impatiently, pushing back her pink hair. "We're going to L.A."

xxx

West moaned in frustration as he slammed the door of his dorm. Mad looked up, a bit worriedly. One glance at West's distressed eyes and he knew the answer.

"Sarah doesn't like you."

"Shut up!" yelped West, chucking a shoe at Mad. Mad just dodged, the shoe hitting the wall behind him.

West collapsed on a bed and sighed. He realized how immature and petty he was being. But he realized that it wasn't just that Sarah didn't like him. He felt like something bigger was missing. He needed something else.

He knew what it was, but he wasn't admitting it to himself.

He needed his dad. Badly.

Sometimes his friends just couldn't cut it.

Only his dad had gone and taken his own life and West had found him… oh God, he didn't want to think about it.

"West," began Mad gently, putting down his sketching pad and heading over to the teen. "West, it's ok to miss your dad."

"How did you know?" West asked him. He'd never told Mad anything.

"Same story for me," Mad said with a sad smile. "Yeah, it's true, West. Sometimes things get hard."

"How did your…" West broke off. He had no business asking that type of stuff.

"Hit-and-run," Mad replied shortly. "For a long time, I didn't want to remember, West. I didn't want to think about it because it just hurt more and more and ate away at me. But I couldn't hide it anymore because the pain just kept coming and I couldn't forget. So I remembered, and it didn't hurt so much," his voice broke in pain, and he wiped a couple of tears away. "It's ok to miss your dad, Weston. He wouldn't want to be forgotten."

West sat on the bed, thinking hard. Alek had tried to tell him that all the time, only he'd never listened. Alek hadn't known anything.

All of the sudden, the phone rang, breaking West from his thoughts. He picked it up, and an operator said there was a message for Weston McArthur. The operator's serene voice turned into a panicked Alek's.

"God, West, you need to get to Jason's camp _right _now. I'm getting a plane right now—you need to get over there."

"What?"

"Go, West, go. Come on, you have to get there. Jason's hurt."

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	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17:

"I tried to be perfect, but nothing was worth it," –Sum 41's _Pieces _

West dropped the phone, and grabbed his shoes, shoving his feet inside them.

"What happened?" Mad asked.

"Jason's hurt," West replied, running towards the door. "I have to get there. _Now_."

His heart was racing with disbelief. How? How could Jason get hurt? Who would hurt him? Why?

He ran down the corridor, only stopping when he heard someone yell his name. "WEST!"

He turned around and saw Bren. "West, what's going on?"

He explained the situation to her, and felt strangely grateful when he saw the creases of worry that lined her forehead. "Come on, West, I'll take you."

West nodded mutely, following her out to the parking lot where her BMW was. He got in on the passenger side as she pushed in her keys and started the engine.

The ride was strangely silent—they didn't talk at all, except for West occasionally pointing out the directions to Jason's camp. West could feel Bren's eyes on him, but he ignored them. He closed himself up in a small shell, trying to block out all the emotions. Was Jason alright? What was happening? Oh my God…

Bren stopped the car when they finally reached their destination, but before West could tear off his seatbelt and bolt for the door, she grabbed onto his shoulder. "Wait."

West turned to her, a bit impatiently. He needed to find Jason.

"West," Bren started, looking hard into his eyes. "I know you like Sarah, but she really… don't take this the wrong way, but she just thinks of you as a friend. West, you don't understand—she's liked Paul since fifth grade, and she finally is having a chance with him. Don't you see?"

West pulled away, he really didn't want to hear any of this. He opened the car door, feeling rather immature, and stalked off. He almost didn't hear Bren's soft, sad voice.

"West, I love you."

xxx

"Dude." Jorge looked up from Jason's pale face and glanced over at West who sat right next to him. "That girl looks _really _familiar."

Julie had just left the room to get a Coke from the vending machine and call Kathy and Connor to tell them not to worry, and West finally found his voice after the initial shock of walking in to Jorge and Julie who had been sitting in Jason's room, waiting for him to get out of his unconscious state. West gave Julie credit. She didn't even know Jason, but she was willing to sit and wait for Jorge's sake.

"I _know_," Jorge said in a slightly exaggerated voice. He'd rather talk about anything, think about anything, then see Jason's still body laying on the bed in this hospital wing for the camp.

Jorge thought about how he'd arrived in L.A. after about five long hours that consisted of sleeping, listening to Julie cry, and trying to avoid the glances of several flirtatious girls, and also giving mean looks to guys who tried to sweet-talk to Julie. They'd gotten on a taxi and hitched a ride to Jason's camp. He remembered his initial shock on entering the large building with Julie and asking for Jason Escalante. The lady at the front desk gave him a worried look and asked him a bunch of questions before telling him that Jason had been attacked by an anonymous crazy person and had been found bleeding behind a building by a worried friend. Jorge met this friend—who was of course Pat, who Jason had mentioned a couple of times. Pat had sat with him for awhile, but had to leave because his girlfriend, Cazz, who also waited with them, couldn't take the empty silence anymore or looking at Jason's bruised face, and had burst into tears. Therefore Julie and Jorge had sat there until West had come, Julie dozing off for awhile. Well, he couldn't expect her to stay awake the whole time. There _was _a huge time difference—it had been a _long _night too. They met, and then Julie headed off to get her Coke and call their parents—Jorge definitely would _not _talk to Connor, and this is where they were now.

West thought hard, his brow furrowed. "I just can't remember exactly _where._"

"I couldn't either," Jorge said shortly. He flipped open his cell-phone and decided he should call his mom. She wasn't home so he left a message explaining the whole situation, feeling a bit guilty about not calling her earlier. She would be worried out of her mind.

There was a scuffle from the door, and a lanky guy with dark brown hair and lots of facial rings entered.

"Alek!" Both Jorge and West were ecstatic, not having seen him for two months. And a long two months those had been. They quickly exchanged hugs, and then Alek was left to stare at the harsh reality in front of him.

Jason's once flawless skin was bruised in several areas—not as though he was deformed or anything—he was still more good-looking than all the guys slammed together. His arm had been broken, and was now set in a cast, and his ribs were bruised. He looked more pale than usual, especially against the dark background of the green Traveling Jacket, which made Jorge feel like puking—though that wasn't uncommon. So much for luck. The guy, (West, Alek, and Jorge had strong suspicions that it was a guy), hadn't killed him though. He probably wouldn't have wanted to deal with _murder_. Jason's injuries weren't too serious, but it was still shocking to see a strong and capable friend in a hospital bed.

Their thoughts were broken as Julie came back in. She glanced more disinterestedly over the guys than Jorge would have expected—well, she _was _the only girl in a room with four guys (even though one of them was out)—until her eyes fell on Alek where she promptly dropped her Coke and ignored it as the brown liquid gushed over the floor.

"Oh my God," she gasped, not noticing the spinning can at her feet. "Alek? Oh my God, it _is _you Slek-man!"

Alek, who had been looking hard at Jason, glanced up and his eyes widened. "Julie?"

As West and Jorge looked on in astonishment, Alek and Julie ran up to each other and hugged like long-lost siblings.

"I can't believe it's _you,_" Alek said, more enthusiastically than his closest friends had seen him for awhile.

"Oh my God, Slek-man, what have you been doing?"

"Would anybody _care _to explain?" West asked rather impatiently. He didn't like it when he didn't know what was going on.

"Jorge, West," Alek said, turning around to face his friends. "Don't you remember Julie? She was like my best friend when we were seven!"

"You expect me to remember someone who was associated with you more than half your lifetime ago?" Jorge asked, trying to remember. "There are some _vague _memories but…" his frustrated face relaxed. "Oh _yeah_, I remember."

Meanwhile West was digging furiously through his wallet, and fished out a picture. "Is _this _you?" It was the picture of Alek sitting with some girl that West _hadn't _known, but now did. He already knew the answer as Julie took the picture. The resemblance was astonishing.

"Yeah," Julie said, nodding definitely. Then she paused. "I can't believe it's _you, _Alek! I haven't seen you since…" she broke off, looking hard at the ground.

Answering West's questioning look, Alek said, "You see—her dad went to rehab, and then they decided to move. Don't you remember? I wouldn't stop crying for like a month!" He directed his attention back to Julie. "I had _no _idea where you'd gone because you wouldn't tell me!"

Jorge thought hard. He did remember. "Yeah."

"Remember what?" came a tired voice. They all looked up. Jason was awake.

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